


The Vermilion Dragon

by Gentle_Alouette



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Character Death, Explicit Language, F/M, Feudal Japan, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mild Sexual Content, Mystery, Physical Abuse, Pokemon - Freeform, Pokemon Death, Pokemon Journey, Team Rocket - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-10-05 04:22:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 59,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10297424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gentle_Alouette/pseuds/Gentle_Alouette
Summary: One week before his coronation, Red and his sister, Leaf, mysteriously vanish. Three years later, and the imperial court has just about given up on the missing children. But, with the sudden reemergence of a once malevolent force, hope for the missing children's return seems all the more likely. (Allusions to Conflicting, NewBark and Blackthornshipping) Feudal AU





	1. LANCE

**Author's Note:**

> Summary: United under the rule of a single emperor, decades-old tensions between the Kanto and Johto regions seem to have finally subsided. For fifteen years, a period of peace is seen throughout the realm. That is until a once dormant force slowly begins making its way back into the public sphere, this time threatening not only the pokémon, but the seemingly untouchable leaders of Kanto-Johto as well. During times when all else is uncertain, only one thing is clear: it’s time to prepare for trouble. 
> 
> A/N: As with anything, I’d like to give some insight into what the story will be about. The basis comes from the G/S/C/HG/SS games as well as a few components from the anime. This is a feudal era AU Pokémon story. Meaning there will be a lot of ancient Japanese cultural elements such as emperors, lords, peasants, along with some medieval European influences as well. It’s a blend. I’m doing my best to research what they did and did not have in the time period, but there may be some mishaps, as in some things might not have been invented yet. Side note: with the introduction of pokémon into the past, it is only natural to assume that the world adapted along with it. So, there will be some things invented to better suit the new environment that may not have existed in the real time period. Feel free to call me out on any historical inaccuracies. Or anything else. Constructive criticism is welcome.
> 
> As a foreword, this story gets darker as it moves along. Adult content is very prevalent, so reader beware.
> 
> Finally, thank you for checking out this story.

 

“Stop!” a voice called out, reverberating around the long, empty hallways of the Royal Palace. “Stop! Pikachu, stop!”

Up ahead, the aforementioned electric rodent perked its ears up. Turning its head, the pikachu narrowed its eyes at the young imperial guardsman trailing it. With a low growl, Pikachu’s cheeks began to power up, sparks starting to fly all around it.

Young, fresh-faced and naïve, Timmon skidded to an abrupt stop, the soles of his boots squeaking against the immaculate marble flooring of the palace. He held out his hands, hoping to show the small pokémon that he meant it no harm. To no avail, however. As soon as he made the motion, Pikachu curled up on itself, and a bolt of lightning shot out from its body, zapping Timmon, shocking him to the floor. As the young guard lie there, his whole form twitching from the sudden burst of electricity that coursed through his body, the pikachu scampered off further down the hall.

“Get up!” came the voice of Dawrec, the Lord Commander of the Imperial Guard. “Why are you lying around?”

Timmon, feeling utterly exhausted, and partially numb from the attack, got to his feet as quickly as he could. Before him, the Lord Commander was standing completely still, a deep frown etched into his aging face. A horde of imperial guards were flanked around him.

“Pikachu,” Timmon began. “It hit me.”

“You sound like a sniveling girl,” Dawrec said, eliciting stifled laughs from the guards around him. “Which way did it go?”

Pointing with his index finger down in the direction he had seen the small electric-type pokémon last, Timmon said, “That way.”

“Let’s get a move on then,” Dawrec said, giving the men behind him a single, stiff nod.

The imperial guards followed suit as the Lord Commander took off down the hallway. Timmon sheepishly trailed behind them, his eyes casted downward in shame. It was his fault Pikachu got loose. He hadn’t known. No, that was a lie. He _had_ known. He just hadn’t expected the prince’s pikachu to be as cunning as it had been. What a fool the small rodent made him out to be, using his lack of knowledge, of understanding to its advantage. Timmon had been informed beforehand that Pikachu was a troublesome pokémon, that he should keep on his toes around it. When he’d gone in to deliver the early morning meals to the missing prince’s pokémon, he had thought nothing of it. Lower the dishes, release the pokémon, wait for them to finish, then return them to their pokéballs. Easy. Simple. Only, it hadn’t gone that way. Charizard and Snorlax were cooperative. They ate their meals, and compliantly waited to be returned. Pikachu was a different story. Kept in a cage separate from the others simply because it refused to remain in a pokéball, Prince Red’s pikachu was as uncooperative, as troublesome as a pokémon could get. It was known to act out, to electrocute anyone who got too close. Any opportunity it had to escape from its cage, it took. Playing the role of the poor, innocent pokémon, its eyes wide, full of sorrow, Pikachu had banked on Timmon’s naivety as a launch point for its means of escape. When Timmon had opened its cage, his heart swelling for the miserable pikachu, the electric rodent had been quick to zap him with a bolt of lightning before scampering off.

“Why do you keep the prince’s pikachu in a cage?” Timmon had asked once.

“Empress’ orders,” was the reply he received from Dawrec. “Personally, I would’ve set the poor thing free. It simply can’t live without the prince. It’s been trying to escape ever since the young boy disappeared. You don’t have to be a pokémon expert to see it is miserable here. But, the empress won’t have any of that. She believes her son, and her daughter, are still out there.”

“You don’t?” Timmon had asked.

“After being Lord Commander as long as I have been, you start to realize that children who go missing, especially upper-class types, don’t ever come back. Not alive anyway,” Dawrec had said.

“They could still be alive out there,” Timmon had argued.

“Three years ago that might’ve been a possibility,” Dawrec had said, his voice detached. “But, now, it’s safe to say they’re most likely lying dead in a ditch somewhere.”

Not paying close attention to what was ahead of him, Timmon slammed into a fellow guardsman, who turned and glared at him in irritation. He was quick to apologize before he craned his neck to see why they were suddenly stopped.

A few feet in front of the imperial guards was Chiji Lance Ryuzaki, the famed Dragon Master. He stood before them, tall, lean, imposing. Despite the hour of the morning being quite early, a little after the dawn, Chiji Lance was awake, and dressed. His face held no hint of amusement as his eyes roamed over the imperial guardsmen before him.

The Lord Commander bowed his head, and said, “Apologies, Chiji. It was not my intention to awaken you from your slumbers.”

The imperial guardsmen around him bowed to the Dragon Master as well.

Lance hummed in dissatisfaction. He had not been awoken by the trampling of boots against the marble flooring, or the sudden commotion that seemed to have filled the halls so early this morning, despite what Dawrec was suggesting. On the contrary, actually. Lance had already been up for a considerable amount of time before he even started to hear these sounds. He was an early riser. The hours of the morning in which he sat awake while much of the palace slept was spent on general reflection, and thoughts and plans for the upcoming day. The cries and shouts of distress that had followed the sounds of thunder and lightning had not roused him in the slightest. Though, he couldn’t say the same for his companions snoozing away in the surrounding rooms. But, then again, Bruno was a notoriously heavy sleeper, who snored about as loud as a snorlax did.

“Is Pikachu loose again?” he simply asked.

Dawrec nodded. “Aye,” he said.

Lance considered this for a moment, and then sighed lowly to himself. “Lead the way,” he said. “I will retrieve it for you.”

“There is no need, Chiji,” the Lord Commander said. “My men and I, we can handle it.”

Waving his hand in dismissal, Lance said, “It won’t be any trouble for me, I can assure you.”

Dawrec opened his mouth to object, to express his concerns, but was soon silenced by the hard look Lance threw his way.

“Yes, of course. Right this way,” Dawrec said, bowing again.

Onward the Lord Commander and Lance strode down the halls, the bulk of the imperial guard following closely behind them. As they continued through the Royal Palace, Dawrec attempted, many times, to strike up a conversation with the Dragon Master. All of the attempts, however, were in vain. Lance had no desire to speak with the man more than absolutely necessary. The Lord Commander, much like many of those who were employed under the imperial court, was a brownnoser. Not to say Lance was complaining, but after dealing with bootlickers for about a decade, he became desensitized to just about all obsequious behavior.

“There it is!” Timmon shouted suddenly.

From the back of the pack, the young guard rushed forward, his arm extended as he pointed out an open window. Braced against the stone sill, Timmon tracked the movements of the small electric rodent with his finger, indicating to the men who soon surrounded him that yes, indeed, it was the runaway pikachu.

Lance forced his way to the front of the crowd, the several imperial guards in his way stepping back to let him through. He eyed the pokémon for a long moment, watching as it dashed across the green of the palace gardens. It must have leaped out of the window in hopes of losing its pursuers. The hall he and the imperial guards now occupied was located on the second level of the palace. It was a relatively far drop to the grounds below, but certainly it would be no real obstacle for a pokémon predisposed to landing on its feet.

_Smart creature_ , Lance thought. By the time any one of them managed to make it down to the gardens, Pikachu would have already created a substantially great distance between it and the palace, and its pursuers. No time to waste, then. Reaching for his belt, the Dragon Master unclipped a single pokéball, tossing it out into the open air, just outside the window. With a flash of white light, his dragonite, Vermilios, materialized. Flapping its wings, Vermilios stared back at Lance, patiently awaiting its master’s commands.

“I’ll handle it,” Lance told the men, before hopping up on the sill, and leaping out into the air and onto Vermilios’ back.

Generally, Lance wasn’t inclined to superfluous gestures, such as unnecessarily hopping onto his dragonite’s back through an open window just to fetch a runaway pikachu. However, this particular morning, he was feeling a bit more exuberant, and that was saying something, since usually he was a rather stoic individual. Not today. He felt like indulging the onlookers behind him in a grandiose display. He was a showman when it came to his dragons. Not that he would ever admit to it, but he liked to show off. The collective gasps and awes his actions usually elicited from nearby spectators always filled his heart, and head, with pride.

Without another second of hesitation, Lance ordered his dragonite forward, in the direction of Prince Red’s pikachu. Vermilios was a fast pokémon, even in normal standards for a dragonite. Not that he’d brag, but Lance got his dragonite, back then, a dratini egg, from an ancient, and powerful dragonite that resided deep within the Dragon’s Den in Blackthorn, a city-state in Johto. How it managed to live that long, Lance had no real clue. But, generally speaking, dragonite that come out of Blackthorn are, on average, more powerful and stronger than one that would have been caught in the wild. This being because of the heavy emphasis the Ryuzaki clan of Blackthorn placed on their dragonite, and the purity that should be upheld when breeding. Favorable traits and aspects, skills and strengths, those are to be kept within the gene pool. Everything else was blocked out, or forced to die off. To much of the world, this method was heavily criticized and disapproved of. It was understandable, since pokémon shouldn’t be bred solely on power alone. Power and strength was supposed to come from within, and pokémon, no matter what their size, have a unique ability that can be found deep inside each and every one of them. This was, of course, known by Lance’s family. But, somewhere along the lines, those thoughts were put far away, casted off into the corner, but still looming in the near background somewhere.

As Vermilios soared through the sky, Lance zeroed in on Prince Red’s pikachu. It was still sprinting, rounding the green as it made a mad dash for the palace’s front gates. Ordering his dragonite downward, Lance caught up to the small pokémon in quick time.

Immediately, Pikachu took notice of the Dragon Master flying over its head. With a short cry, Pikachu sent a bolt of lightning up toward Lance and Vermilios, who, without hesitation, was quick to move out of the way.

“Ice beam, Vermilios,” Lance said.

With that, Lance’s dragonite released an ice-cold beam of energy from its maw, sending it barreling down toward the runaway pikachu below it. Pikachu, sensing and anticipating the attack, swiftly darted out of the way.

“Ice beam, again,” he said.

Pikachu, still in its mad dash, narrowly managed to dodge the oncoming beam of ice that was shot out almost immediately after the first. It was panting heavily, gasps of breath escaping its small mouth as it hurried along.

Though both of his attacks were avoided, Lance felt no frustration. He had patience, and cognizance that Pikachu would soon tire out. Either that or it would make a mistake, stepping in the wrong direction in an attempt to dodge another attack. Eventually, the might of his dragon-type pokémon would come through. It always did.

Guiding Vermilios closer to the ground, Lance positioned his dragonite right behind Pikachu, a prime and optimal spot for delivering a direct hit.

“Again.”

Right on command, Vermilios released a final ice beam attack, aimed directly at the prince’s pikachu, who only realized it needed to move out of the way when it was far too late. Struck in the back, Pikachu was sent flying, crashing to the dirt, its paws and body skidding across the grass, undoubtedly staining its yellow fur. As it lay there, the ice from Vermilios’ attack spreading across its tiny body, Prince Red’s pikachu was soon rendered frozen solid.

Lance leaped off of his dragonite, landing on the ground below nimbly. Behind him, Vermilios too came to a rest in the green of the palace’s gardens. The Dragon Master stalked over to the pikachu, his eyes appraising the small electric rodent that had caused such distress this morning.

“Chiji Lance!” the voice of the Lord Commander called out.

Lance turned his head slightly toward the approaching man. Dawrec, along with a few of his guardsmen, were running up to meet him. In the back of the pack, Lance noticed a young man, just a little over sixteen years of age, trying to shrink in on himself. He looked every the bit uncomfortable, and, to be frank, guilty.

“Chiji Lance,” Dawrec said again, bowing his head. “You honor us with your skill and aide. I thank you for your assistance. We will now bring this pikachu back to its cage, where, certainly, it will not escape from again.”

The Lord Commander of the Imperial Guard made a motion with his hand, and two of his guardsmen stepped forward, picking up the frozen pikachu, and carrying it off toward the palace.

“I should hope not,” Lance said. “Though, it is rather odd you needed to call nearly half of your men to retrieve a simple pokémon.”

Dawrec’s facial features froze just then, his mouth hanging open.

“It is my fault, Chiji,” the young Timmon said, timidly, stepping forward. “I let the prince’s pikachu get the better of me. I hadn’t known what to do when it had escaped, so I ran off to alert Lord Commander Dawrec, and a large majority of the imperial guard.”

At his subordinate’s words, Dawrec’s wrinkled face began to regain life. The older man rubbed the fine, white whiskers of his chin as if considering what Timmon had said.

“Yes, yes,” he said. “Timmon is very new to the imperial guard, Chiji. He only started a week ago. He had not known Pikachu would do what it had done.”

“Understandable,” Lance said, nodding once.

And truly it was. Though Lance was not particularly irritated with the fact that he had to assist in the imperial guard’s retrieval of Pikachu, he was not, in any way, pleased. He had only taken it upon himself to do the job for them because if he hadn’t, Pikachu would’ve been running around the palace, and possibly, the capital the entire day. It had happened before, on more than one occasion. Especially during the first year of Prince Red and Princess Leaf’s disappearance. Least to say, chasing a pikachu down to the ends of the earth, well, that just seemed like a huge waste of time. Better to do the job himself than to let others run around like bumbling fools for the duration of the day.

Similarly, Lance felt empathy for the young Timmon. As he gazed at the teenaged guard, Lance was reminded of himself, nearly a decade ago when he had first come to the Indigo Plateau to take over for his father as chiji of East Johto. He had been inexperienced, confused, and prone to many mistakes. Mistakes that his fellow Elite Four members were all too glad to remind him of, even now. Bruno did this frequently, but at this point in Lance’s career, the fighting-type master ever really brought these mistakes up to poke fun at him. Lorelei almost always mentioned them to be spiteful; she and Lance tolerated each other’s existence, as their relationship only extended as far as being mere colleagues. Agatha’s two cents on the matter was ever really thrown into the pot when she wanted to teach him a lesson, or to remind him of a past fault he should reflect back on.

“Thank you, Chiji Lance,” Timmon said, softly.

“All right, men,” Dawrec said, his voice becoming loud and imposing. “Back to your posts.”

With that, Timmon and the rest of the imperial guard marched away, their Lord Commander stalking off in the opposite direction, headed for the Royal Palace’s front gates.

Lance turned to his dragonite, who was still looming by in the near background. Though it was patiently awaiting his instruction, Lance could see that Vermilios had become distracted with something. Its eyes were casted far off into the distance, fixed on a single point back at the palace. Squinting, Lance followed Vermilios’ gaze to an upper window of the Royal Palace, where he saw the single figure of Empress Amaranth Beniko staring back at him from up high. Her lips were pressed in a hard line, and there was no hint of amusement on her face. She had seen the entire incident, Lance realized.

Tearing his eyes away, and thoroughly ignoring her stare, Lance recalled his dragonite before making his return to the palace.

* * *

 

Blue Oak was making Chiji Bruno Nakahara sweat. And that was a feat on its own.

Located in the center of the Royal Palace was a large indoor stadium, utilized solely for pokémon battles. Often, it was used to settle disputes, put someone in their place, or just plainly battle a fellow member of the imperial court. Practicing and training with a pokémon was also a frequent activity seen here. 

At the moment, Blue Oak and Chiji Bruno were in the middle of an intense match, incited mainly because Bruno wanted to beat Blue one last time before the boy left for Viridian the next day. They were down to their last two pokémon. The current battle featured Blue’s arcanine against Bruno’s machamp.  

From the balconies above, Lance watched on with mild interest. Blue Oak was truly a formidable trainer. Rather than focusing on one particular type, Blue had gathered a blended and balanced team of pokémon. It was a thoughtful way to go about battling, but in Lance’s opinion, it really did not matter if the power was equally dispersed amongst his team if his opponent had strong, virtually indestructible pokémon. Lance thought this about himself. Revered as the Dragon Master, he was the strongest trainer in Kanto-Johto. No one could surpass him. The might of his dragon-types just simply could not be overcome.

As he watched Blue’s arcanine use a flamethrower attack on Machamp, a sudden presence materialized in the air beside him. Without so much as turning his head, Lance crossed his arms over his chest, and raised one of his eyebrows.

“Nice to see you there, Gengar,” he said, addressing the floating ghost-type pokémon.

In response, Gengar’s smirk broadened across its face.

“Agatha,” Lance said, calling forth his elderly colleague.

With the rap-tapping of a wooden cane on the stone flooring, Agatha Sato, the chiji of East Kanto, stepped forward out of the shadows. Steadily, she made her way to stand beside Lance, gazing down at the ongoing battle taking place before them. For a long while, Agatha said nothing, and Lance made no move to strike up a conversation with her. Instead, he too focused his attention back on Blue Oak and Chiji Bruno Nakahara.

Finally, she said, plaintively, “He’s gotten to be so good. I remember when he first came here, as a ward to Emperor Carmine.” A small smile danced across her lips just then, as she added, “Look at him now. Just fourteen, and already an impressive trainer. He’ll do great things as the new lord of Viridian.”

“He is very young,” Lance plainly stated.

“As were you,” she reminded him. “When you first came to the Indigo Plateau.”

“It’s still a lot of responsibility to place on the shoulders of a fourteen-year old boy,” Lance said. “I do not understand what Lorelei was thinking in appointing him. His head may not even be in the right place to run an entire city-state.”

“Was yours?”

“No,” he said. “But, I was, I _am_ different than him.”

“You are correct about that, Lance,” Agatha said, nodding. “You were fifteen, and instead, tasked with becoming the governor of an entire sub-region rather than a city-state. However, that is where the differences between the two of you stop.”

“Not true,” he argued. “Blue Oak is too prideful, too arrogant for his own good.”

Agatha gave him a wary look. “And you are not?”

“Hardly.”

Agatha huffed in disbelief, and then asked, “You do not think you are a god among men?”

“Not even in the slightest.”

“You paint a very bright picture of yourself then.”

“Regardless,” Lance said, moving away from the subject. “The boy is in for a world of surprise when he arrives in Viridian. The people there are still disgustingly loyal to Giovanni Samejima, even after he fled three years ago, or when Lorelei was forced to take control of the city-state.”

“They never did really warm up to the idea of a chiji controlling their affairs all the way from the capital,” Agatha said.

“That does not make it right for them to still, even to this day, silently and secretly pray for Giovanni’s return,” he griped.

“They knew him as their lord first before they knew him to be a criminal,” she said. “From what I understand, he was a generous man. Under him, Viridian thrived. They truly did love him. He was charismatic, thoughtful, well-spoken―”

“Don’t tell me you were in love with him too, Agatha,” Lance said, cutting her off sharply, his eyes narrowing as he turned to face her. “He did many terrible, many horrible things. He was the leader of the Roketto-Dan. Do you know how many crimes against pokémon they’ve committed? Have you forgotten what they did in Lavender Town?”

“No I have not,” she told him. “But, you have to understand, Lance, that men like Giovanni Samejima have to be charismatic and charming for people to buy into what they’re saying. How else would he have been able to manage to entice so many people to join the Roketto-Dan?”

“He was a disgusting, vile human being,” he said, ignoring what she had just said.

“You are not wrong about that,” Agatha said, thoughtfully. “People’s perceptions are based on how they see the world around them. If you believe he was as evil as you say, then I am not the one to argue against you. I just want you to know that you cannot judge another person for the reality that they see and perceive. You are still a young man. As you grow older, you will soon realize not everything is as black and white as it appears to be.”

“I’ve already realized that,” he said, grumbling, refocusing his attention on the battle.

Below them, down on the floor, Arcanine was standing over Machamp’s unconscious body, panting heavily. Bruno, who looked both stunned and amused, recalled his pokémon.

“Last one, boy. You better be ready,” he said, unclipping a pokéball from his belt and flinging it onto the field. Out with a flash of white light was Bruno’s onix.

“An onix?” Blue asked, haughtily. “Poor mistake, Bruno. Arcanine, go!”

“Fight as hard as you can until you faint!” Bruno shouted to his pokémon, as it rushed forward to meet the oncoming arcanine.

Frowning deeply, Lance lowly remarked, “Blue still has his blastoise. Why does he not switch out his arcanine for it? A water-type can easily defeat a rock-type. And, Arcanine is a fire-type. Those are especially weak to rock-types.”

Agatha leaned up against the balcony, her fingers curling around the stone as she looked closer, the wooden cane she used to help her walk still clutched tightly in her right fist. A wide, knowing grin, similar in nature to that of her gengar, spread across her face.

“Where’s the fun in that, Lance?” she asked. In seeing that he was not, in any way, smiling, or sharing her joy, Agatha sighed, and said, “You were right, the two of you are very different. You don’t know how to smile.”

Lance frowned again, despite himself, not sure if he should be offended by that statement or not. He eventually settled on the former, but even then, he did not dare show that her comment had affected him. He was told to smile more by nearly everyone in the Royal Palace at one point or another, so he was used to it. The truth of the matter was that simply Lance had not much to smile about nowadays.

“Iron tail, Arcanine,” Blue said, firmly.

Swiftly, Arcanine readied its tail, powering it up for the steel-type attack. Then, with rapid speed, Arcanine sprinted forward, only to leap into the air, striking Onix in the face with its tail. A direct hit, even before Onix or Bruno could have reacted. Onix stumbled backwards after receiving the blow, its head wavering slightly.

“Smart move, kid,” Bruno said, smirking. “Onix, rock tomb, now!”

Obeying its master’s command, Onix raised its massive tail into the air above it before slamming it down on the field below, sending various rocks to come up from beneath the ground. And then, using its tail to wrap around each of the rocks, Onix began executing its rock tomb attack, hurling various boulders at Blue’s arcanine with intense and brutal force.

Even as Arcanine worked to avoid the attack, it could not simply overcome the onslaught of rocks thrown its way. Within seconds, Arcanine was down, fainted. Blue was quick to recall his pokémon, and thank it for its hard work. He then brought out his last pokéball, expanding it in his hand.

“It’s all over now, Bruno,” he said before throwing his pokéball forward, sending out his blastoise.

“I was wondering when you were going to use that thing,” Bruno said, his eyes shining with mirth.

“Ready to lose?” Blue taunted before pointing his finger forward. “Rain dance, Blastoise.”

From the cannons on its back, Blastoise piped out a continuous stream of water into the air above, making it look as if it were raining. Much of the water splashed all over Onix, causing the rock-type to flinch and wave its long, serpentine body around as it worked to avoid the droplets.

“You’re toying with me,” Bruno said.

“Not exactly,” Blue told him. “Blastoise, use hydro pump!”

The battle concluded right then and there, as soon as the command left Blue’s lips. Bruno and Onix both attempted to avoid the attack, but it was much too fast, much too strong. Soon enough, when Blastoise finally ceased its hydro pump attack, Onix was completely drenched, lying on the ground, unconscious.

After returning his fainted pokémon, Bruno said, with a smile, “Good match, kid.”

Blue shrugged, as if it was of no importance to him if he won or not. But, soon after, he smirked and said, “I sure will miss beating you when I’m in Viridian.”

Bruno’s smile broadened, and he chuckled. “It’s clear that I’m no longer a match for you,” he said, before turning his head up toward where Agatha and Lance stood. “But, I think that there are still some people that you should consider battling before you leave tomorrow. Lance? Agatha?”

At the mention of their names, both Lance and Agatha froze, like they had been caught. Not that they had done anything remotely wrong, but, for the most part, the two of them had not expected to be called out.

Agatha was quick to recover, waving her hand dismissively. “No, no,” she said, overly gracious. “That is all right. At the moment, I am feeling quite tired out, you see.”

“Lance?”

The Dragon Master pressed his lips together in a hard line, before shaking his head. “I would love to indulge the boy in a pokémon battle,” he began. “However, I have business to attend to elsewhere. I just do not have the time. I apologize.”

“That is too bad,” Bruno called. “Perhaps next time, Ryuzaki?”

“Certainly.”

* * *

 

As far as feasts or celebratory dinners went, the one that was held for Blue Oak was a rather spirited and jovial affair. It certainly was not the grandest feast to have ever been held in the Indigo Plateau. There had been far greater. But, it was a grand dinner nonetheless.

As ward of the imperial family, Blue Oak had grown up with the Beniko children. He was familiar with the prince and princess alike; early on, both him and Prince Red developed a rivalry. It was friendly enough, though at times, Blue was a bit malicious in his quest to be better than the prince. With the princess, Blue appeared to have on reserve some sort of special kindness for the older girl. Though he often teased and taunted her, it was clear there was something more to their relationship than the fourteen-year old boy let on.

Three years ago, when His Grace, Emperor Carmine Beniko, died, Blue was given the choice to leave the capital, to explore the world. He had aged quite a bit from the orphaned two-year old infant that had been taken under the emperor’s care. But, even then, when he had been granted the opportunity to leave, Blue chose to stay. He remained in the Indigo Plateau long after the emperor’s death, and even when Prince Red and Princess Leaf disappeared a few days later, weeks before the prince’s coronation. Throughout all of the occurrences and shifts in the imperial court, Blue Oak remained, steadfast, and determined to grow and learn.

Now, Blue was in the midst of his celebratory dinner, the grand sendoff before his departure for Viridian the next morning. Around the feast hall, people ate, drank, chatted, or danced. General merriment and laughter filled the air, blending with the convivial sounds coming from the wind and string instruments as the band played _gagaku_.

Apart from the crowds, Lance sat by himself, watching as Bruno dragged Blue around the hall, much to the boy’s dismay. It was all in good fun and nature, as Bruno was simply showing Blue off as the new boy lord of Viridian. Alone, where he felt the most content, Lance carefully picked up the _chunbing_ off of his plate, wrapping his hands around the fried dough, and taking a bite out of it. As he ate, peacefully and quietly, a sudden, unmistakable figure carefully slid into the seat beside him.

“Do you know that of all the people who live in the Royal Palace, you are the only one who ever eats that sorry excuse for a pancake?” Lorelei Mizushima, the chiji of West Kanto, asked, seemingly amused.

Lance put his _chunbing_ down on his plate, swallowing thoroughly before gritting his teeth. “Do you know that of all the people who live in the Royal Palace, I am the only one who is from Johto?” he fired back.

“As you are so persistent in reminding us,” Lorelei commented under her breath, though Lance heard it all the same. “I just think it’s a waste of effort and time for the cooks to labor over such inane Johto food. Like that.”

“You do realize I live here too?”

Lorelei smirked, drumming her long nails on the table top as she said, “Unfortunately.”

“What is wrong with you?” he asked, frowning. “Don’t you have someone else to bother?”

“At the moment, no,” she admitted, all too casually.

Lance eyed the Ice Mistress carefully. There was something she wanted, something she hoped to gain in speaking with him. He just had yet to discover what it was. Lorelei never approached him freely unless she needed something from him. Her attitude at the moment, too, was all the more reason to suspect she had an ulterior motive. Normally, Lorelei was cold and curt in their interactions, but the Lorelei who now presented herself to Lance was sportive and a bit impish.  There were times where she was known to be quite warm, despite her choice in pokémon, but as far as her relationship with Lance went, that side of her did not exist.

As Lance continued appraising his red-haired companion, he faintly decided that she wasn’t particularly ugly. She wasn’t particularly beautiful either, at least not in Lance’s opinion. Though, his thoughts on the matter were heavily biased, and influenced by the several interactions they’d shared over the years.

Lorelei was a woman of average height with light auburn hair that she normally kept tied up and back. With pale skin and dark amber eyes, Lorelei was often mistaken as Lance’s sister, or vice versa with him as her brother. They shared a lot of physical attributes between them, but upon closer inspection of their faces, it was very clear that neither of them really, truly resembled the other.

As the celebration continued around the two of them, Lance noticed that Lorelei, though physically present beside him, was off somewhere else. Her eyes were focused behind them, fixed and locked on a young boy with golden brown hair as he was being toted around the feast hall.

Lance arched one of his brows, turning his head fully in Blue Oak’s direction. The boy, at the moment, was sharing a laugh with Bruno and Koizumi, the aqua-haired castle steward who also served as the empress’ advisor. Not much was known about the tall, lanky man. He usually hung close to Empress Amaranth, always delivering her messages, or running personal errands. Lance wasn’t sure he even knew the man’s given name. Koizumi was just his surname.

“If you are so worried about him,” he began, unsympathetically. “You should not have appointed him as the lord of Viridian in the first place.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” she said, lamely. “Once he gets an idea in his head, he becomes dead set on it until he ultimately succeeds in accomplishing it. It didn’t help that, similarly, Bruno decided to let a twelve-year old become the lord of Azalea.”

“You did have a choice,” he said, flatly. “You chose to leave Viridian without a lord. You chose to complain about the twelve-year old, loudly and frequently, I might add; it’s no wonder the boy got that idea in his head. And, you chose to make Blue the lord of Viridian.”

“Well, I wasn’t wrong to complain,” she said, defensively. “Lord Bugsy is hardly fit to run such a large city-state as Azalea. And, what was I supposed to do? The people of Viridian were unsatisfied with me. They wanted local leadership.”

“You could have chosen someone else.”

“Oh please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Do you know how many of the lords and ladies of Kanto-Johto are under the age of twenty?”

“Irrelevant,” Lance said.

“Well, it didn’t really seem to matter then,” she said. “Blue will make a great lord. Better than Giovanni Samejima.”

“I don’t doubt you think that,” he said, giving her a sideways glance. Then, he added, suggestively, “You’ve always been so confident in his abilities, always so sure of his strength. I’m not sure why I was so surprised when I learned of your decision to appoint him. Whenever he wanted something, there you were to give it to him, gold platter and everything.”

Lorelei narrowed her eyes at his tone, her mouth parting slightly, and then closing just the same. She turned away from him, and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you?” he asked, his voice low as he leaned closer to her. “Because from what I understand, you seem to have an odd fixation with the boy. An inappropriate fixation, I might add.”

“You are making very broad insinuations, Ryuzaki.”

“Am I?”

Lorelei snapped her head in Lance’s direction, and for a moment, it looked like she was about to say something more. However, thinking better of it, she sighed in exasperation. Triumphantly, Lance smiled. She may be a cold, spiteful woman, who was always looking for a way to strike Lance down, but he could be just as unkind. 

Deciding to move away from the subject at her expense, he asked. “Why did you come over here? I highly doubt you came in hopes of striking up a good-natured conversation with me.”

Still a bit miffed, Lorelei’s facial features became very rigid, her jaw clenching and unclenching as she responded. “I’m going home to Four Island for a few days, if you must know. I feel that I am behooved to let every one of my colleagues know the reason for why I will be absent during the next few weeks.”

“Ah,” Lance said, knowingly. “Court life becoming too much for you?”

She scoffed, and said, “Not exactly. I need a break to clear my head.” She glanced up at him, sighing, and, for a second, Lance could see that she looked tired, and strangely, sorrowful. That look was quick to dissipate, however. “Besides, my mother has been nagging me to visit her for years. It seems like it’s as good a time as any to see her.” 

As a sudden and loud chant started behind them, in the middle of the feast hall, Lance and Lorelei glanced back over their shoulders to see what was going on. Sat on a chair that was being hoisted high into the air by Bruno, Blue Oak was bright red, and howling with laughter. It was clear he was drunk, probably at the accountability of Bruno, who was leading the chants, shouting, “Lord of Viridian! Lord of Viridian!”

Most of the patrons at the celebration were quick to join in on the chanting, lifting their goblets in Blue’s direction, red wine sloshing all over the place. It was safe to say that nearly half of the room was drunk. 

“See what happens when you leave him in Bruno’s care,” Lance said, finally returning his attention back to his plate.

“He’s never drank wine before,” she said, her tone suddenly frigid.

“He’ll be hungover tomorrow,” he said. “That’s for certain. Just pray he doesn’t end up with a concussion if he falls off of that chair.”

Lorelei stood abruptly, her hands fluttering to smooth down her dark violet satin robes. Without so much as a bow of the head, or a stiff nod to signal her departure, Lorelei glided away, the long, billowy sleeves of her kimono nearly gracing the floor as she kept her hands stiffly at her sides.

Lance picked up the _chunbing_ off of his plate again, feeling every the bit more comfortable, and certain that he wasn’t going to be interrupted for the duration of his meal.

* * *

 

The next morning, Blue Oak was standing at the front gates of the Royal Palace. Least to say, when Lance gazed upon the new boy lord of Viridian, he could very much tell that Blue was not content to be up so early. He looked every the bit tired, and then some. As he stood, basking in the sun’s morning rays, Blue squinted, and clutched his head as if it were painful to him. Behind him, a dozen men sat up on their rapidash, waiting patiently for the new lord to join them on his own palfrey so they could escort him all the way to Viridian.

The sun was already high in the sky, and its rays were blazing down on the small crowd that stood to see the boy off. _The early morning sun_ , Lance thought. _The coming of summer is near._

Beside him, the three other chiji stood, each of them in various states of consciousness. Like Lance, Agatha Sato was an early riser, and therefore, did not appear as drowsy as, say, Bruno, who was struggling to keep his eyes open. Lance watched him warily. He did not put it past the fighting-type master to fall asleep while standing up. On the other side of Bruno, closest to the palace gates, was Lorelei. Heavy bags were under her almond-shaped eyes, and it did not look like she got any sleep last night. Still, there she was, a bright, but strained smile pulled across her lips. Also present were Empress Amaranth Beniko, the aqua-haired Koizumi, Lord Commander Dawrec, and Cecelia, Blue’s old nurse.

Blue moved forward, stiffly and a bit hesitantly. Though he did not appear distraught over his departure, Lance could tell that the boy did not feel particularly overjoyed either. He first approached the empress, as was expected. She did not raise him in any way. That had been Cecelia’s job. But, her husband had taken it upon himself to bring him in when he did, so Blue was obligated to show her some sort of gratitude.

Bowing his head lowly, Blue said, “Thank you, Kōgō, for providing me with a home these past many years. I am forever grateful.”

“There is no need to thank me, child,” Empress Amaranth said, coolly. “My lord husband can be accredited with that.”

“Yes, of course,” Blue said. “I will surely stop by the Arceon on my way out of the capital, and pay my respects to him.”

Empress Amaranth gave him a pasted smile, and bowed her head at him, tilting her chin down ever so slightly. As she did this, Lance watched the enormous headpiece she sported begin to shift forward. Silently, he prayed that it would tip over, causing her to stumble out of her uppity position. It was no secret that Lance did not like the empress. She was conceited, and insincere in much of what she said and did. Unlike Lorelei, who had, at first, attempted to befriend him when he’d first come to the Indigo Plateau, Empress Amaranth was haughty, and contemptuous. She did not like him. In any way. This was simply because, as Lance later discovered, she had not wanted her husband to extend his mercy to Johto after the war. Amaranth did not like the idea of bringing a Johto-born into the capital to act as chiji. She would have rather he decimated every last Johto insurgent, but, instead, Emperor Carmine decided to call forth Lance’s father, a prominent, but minor leader who had fought on the Johto side, to preside over East Johto.

In the beginning, it hadn’t mattered what Amaranth thought of him. Her husband had been the emperor, so Lance did not have to deal with her, as she was only the empress consort. But, when he passed, she became the empress dowager, to which she still remains. Even though her children, the heirs, are missing, Amaranth still holds onto her empress dowager status, acting as the actual empress regent herself for three long years. The most logical thing to do would be to find any potential heirs to replace her, but, as it turned out, Carmine had no living relatives. The council suggested for her to marry, but she utterly and ultimately refused to do so. That would require for her to accept the notion of her children’s deaths, something she stubbornly will not do. And so, here she stood a dowager. An old, bitter, scornful dowager.

Blue stepped away from the empress, turning on his heel to further say his goodbyes. As he moved on, he gave a short nod to both Koizumi and Lord Commander Dawrec, who, in turn, nodded his head right back. When he approached Cecelia, Blue let out a surprised yelp as she pulled him into her arms. She was a round, larger woman who, from the look of it, had some sort of hidden strength. Hugging him tightly to her chest, Cecelia patted his head soothingly. She seemed more upset over his departure than he was, and when Blue finally gave in, and wrapped his arms around her body, the nurse started to sob.

After he pried himself out of his old nurse’s arms, Blue made his way over to Agatha, who was supporting herself with her wooden cane. Once he stood in front of her, she reached out her hand and gripped his face, squeezing his chin and cheeks.

“You better be good, boy,” she said, chidingly. “I don’t want to wake up tomorrow only to hear that half of Viridian is on fire.”

Blue managed a smirk, despite his face still being held by the older woman. “I will promise no such thing,” he said.

Agatha relinquished her grip just then, patting his cheek once for good measure, and said, “Don’t think that just because you beat me in battle yesterday, you can act all high and mighty now. Next time, I won’t show you any mercy.”

“That was your mistake, Chiji,” Blue said, smiling at the memory. He bowed his head, and added, “Goodbye, Agatha.”

She only nodded in response, her eyes shining.

“Blue Oak,” Lance said, when the boy turned to him. “It is a shame that I did not get to engage in that pokémon battle I had promised you.”

Yawning, Blue shrugged, as if it were no big deal, and said, dismissively, “I would’ve beaten you anyway.”

Bruno, standing by on Lance’s left, put his arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer. “You got that right, kid,” he said, his voice booming in Lance’s ear. He poked the Dragon Master in the ribcage, causing him to twitch. “This one’s all talk, but once you’re in battle with him, he starts flopping all over the place like a fucking magikarp!”

Lance pushed himself out of Bruno’s grasp, frowning. “Flopping all over the place? Bruno, last I remember, I nearly obliterated you and your fighting-type pokémon.”

Waving that off, Bruno chuckled, and said, “All right. All right. So, I’m stretching the truth.”

“But,” Lance began, turning to Blue. “If you are so confident in your abilities, I would thoroughly enjoy battling with you sometime in the future. Perhaps, I will visit you in Viridian once I have the time.”

“Looking forward to it,” he told him. And then, to the two chiji, he added, “Goodbye.”

Bruno and Lance both bowed their heads to the boy lord, who then proceeded, finally, to Lorelei.

If she was hoping to appear detached and emotionless, Lorelei was failing completely. Lance immediately saw through her façade, as her hands were visibly shaking, even as she tried to conceal them by folding her arms across her chest.

“Thank you, Lorelei, for everything,” Blue said, genuinely, once he stood before her.

Her face broke just then, a grateful smile on her lips. She spread her arms, and Blue stepped into her embrace, hugging her tightly.

From where Lance stood, he noticed that Lorelei then began to speak very quietly to Blue. He couldn’t quite catch what she was saying, but he figured it must’ve been of some importance to the two of them, as they were not sharing a word of it with any of the others. When the Ice Mistress finally released the boy, her eyes were shining with unshed tears. Blue offered her one last strained smile before waving everyone off once again, and mounting his waiting rapidash. And with that, Blue Oak steered his palfrey onward, out of the palace gates, and through the capital, the dozen men tasked to accompany him all the way to Viridian following closely behind.

When he was gone, the group that had gathered to see him off was quick to disperse. The bulk of the crowd headed toward the palace, but Lance, himself, went off in a separate direction.

Down a long, winding stone path that lead to the back of the Royal Palace, and then further along into a more remote location deep within the bamboo forest, was where Lance soon found himself. Walking steadily past the stalks, Lance sought for a calm mind as he moved closer to the Dragon Temple.

With the imminent arrival of summer, it was rather traditional for a Ryuzaki clan member, or perhaps, any other person who worshiped the dragon deities of Blackthorn, to visit the Dragon Temple and pray to the Vermilion Dragon for good fortune. While not as important as the Azure Dragon, who represented the essence of spring, the Vermilion Dragon was typically sought out for mercy, especially during the rainier, wet summer season. Typhoons and hurricanes were the most concerning when praying to the Vermilion Dragon, who could be as generous as it was merciless.

As Lance approached the Dragon Temple, traversing the thin stone path constructed through the reflecting pool that spread out just in front of the temple’s entrance, he became vaguely aware that someone had followed him. He never turned around, however, seeing that he knew who it was, just from seeing them out of the corners of his deep-set, amber eyes.

Entering inside, Lance strode to the center of the temple, the sound of his black boots echoing throughout the structure with every step he took. Once there, he came to a stop in front of the golden statue of the Yellow Dragon, dropping to his knees in front of it. By its feet were a censer and a few joss sticks that had been left there from Lance’s last visit to the Dragon Temple. Carefully, he lit one, dipping it into the incense burner, letting the smoke rise into the air. The smell was therapeutic, and triggering to Lance. The faint scent of jasmine brought him back to his youth, to the many times where he sat, crossed-legged in the temple located deep inside of the Dragon’s Den. His grandfather would always be the one to light the joss sticks, but, occasionally, he’d allow for either Lance or his cousin, Clair, to do the honors. Remembering wrestling Clair to the ground to get to Grandfather first brought a wistful smile to Lance’s face, a rare sight to be seen nowadays.

Pressing his hands together, and bowing his head, Lance closed his eyes and began his silent prayer. Along with asking for mercy and good fortune from the Vermilion Dragon, Lance was also praying to his father. Ancestral veneration was exclusively in the domain of the Yellow Dragon, the centralized deity, as far as dragon gods went. Its likeness, usually in the form of a statue, was always to be found inside a Dragon Temple. Praying to it, as Lance was doing now, was done so out of respect, and gratitude. Dead relatives looked after those who they left behind. In Lance’s case, he knew his father, and similarly, his mother, were watching over him.   

Softly, and faintly, Lance heard the clicking of heeled shoes as they came to a stop just behind him.

Without turning around, or opening his eyes, Lance demanded, “What are you doing here, Amaranth?”

“That’s Kōgō to you, Chiji,” came her response, reproach rising in her voice.

Lance stood abruptly before whirling around to glare at Her Grace, Empress Amaranth Beniko. Still sporting her massive headpiece, the empress was donned up in sumptuous attire. Her silk robes were various shades of red, and there appeared to be about a million small rubies interlaid within the golden trimming of her long, billowy sleeves. Her russet colored hair was coiffed rather elaborately atop her head, surrounding, and complimenting the garish headpiece secured in place there.

“Why are you here?” he asked again, crossing his arms over his chest. He then gazed about the temple, searching for the castle steward. He was nowhere to be found. “And where’s that houndour of yours, Koizumi?”

The empress let out a sudden strident laugh that rung in Lance’s ears long afterwards.

“Is that amusing to you?” he asked, flatly.

“Not particularly,” she said. Waving her hands dismissively, she added, “Koizumi is waiting outside, if you must know.”

“Such a loyal servant,” he deadpanned. “Are houndour not allowed inside?”

“I would assume he’d much rather be referred to as a houndoom,” she said, coolly. “He favors that pokémon greatly. He actually owns one, along with its pre-evolved form.”

“I see he shares your preference for dark-type pokémon.”

Amaranth scoffed, and said, “One of the only good things to come out of Johto.”

Lance ignored the deliberate insult, and reminded her, “You still haven’t answered why you’re here.”

Amaranth looked him once over, clear disgust in her eyes, and then she spread her hands out graciously. “I have come to pay my respects. For Ban,” she simply told him. “It’s been ten years since his passing. Exactly ten. To this very day.”

“I didn’t know you cared so much about my father.”

“Oh I did,” she assured him. “I truly did.” The empress stepped forward toward the statue of the Yellow Dragon, her dark eyes watching the white smoke still steadily rising out of the small censer by its feet. “He was so…tenacious, so full of Johto pride.”

“Yes, he was.”

“As are you,” she said, quickly. She raised one of her defined eyebrows, and added, “Too much Johto pride, I would say.”

“Pride in Johto is one of the few things I have left here in the capital,” Lance said, coolly.

The empress hummed thoughtfully as she considered his words. And then, she began to move forward, stepping around the golden statue, circling it, circling him as she spoke.

“Lance,” she began. “You are a righteous man, are you not?”

“I like to consider myself as such,” he told her.

“Good,” she said, a pasted smile stretching across her thin lips. “So, if you were asked to do something, say, by me, you would be obligated to do it, yes?”

The Dragon Master narrowed his eyes, not quite sure where she was headed. Vaguely, he understood that she wanted something. And, somehow, she was planning to coerce him into doing whatever it was she wanted. She was going about it in a roundabout way, but Lance knew what she was playing at all the same.

“What is it you want?” he asked, bluntly.

“Cutting to the chase I see,” she said. “Fine. I require your assistance in finding and retrieving my children.”

“You’re children are dead,” Lance plainly told her.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No, they are not. I refuse to believe it.”

“You cling to false hope,” he said. “They’ve been missing for too long. If they were out there, surely they would’ve turned up by now.”

“They were kidnapped,” she reminded him. “My children did not go missing, and you know it. The Roketto-Dan, I know they took them. It was vengeance. They kidnapped my children in retribution for my lord husband’s unearthing, and publication of their leader, Lord Giovanni, and his entire operation.”

“Well, unfortunately, the Roketto-Dan has seemingly vanished from the face of the earth. I wouldn’t be able to help you find them even if I tried,” he said.

“That is not exactly true,” she said. “There have been reports. Many reports that have come in, describing sightings of Roketto-Dan personnel all throughout Kanto-Johto. And, there have been rumors about their alleged return.”

“Speculative,” he told her. “All speculative information.”

“No,” she said, firmly. “It is not. I know it. I know my children are alive. I can feel it. Please, Lance, I am asking you to help me. It’s a slim chance, I know, but the possibility of finding them is there. Even if…even if all you find are dead bodies. I just want to know what happened to them.”

Lance gazed at the empress before him, taken aback by her surprising show of emotion. She seemed genuinely distraught, and sincere in what she was saying. It was no secret that she loved her children. Even after all this time, she believed they were still alive, still out there. Of all the faults she had, Lance could at least admit she wasn’t entirely heartless. The undying love for her children was something even he could not deny she possessed.

“Why are you asking me?” he asked. “Why not the Lord Commander? Or perhaps Bruno?”

Empress Amaranth sighed, and said, “Because you are thorough, committed, tenacious. You are persistent in everything you do. Absolutely unyielding. The Lord Commander gave up years ago. He will not help me, and Chiji Bruno is hardly fit for such a demanding task. You’re a powerful trainer, and you possess dragon-type pokémon. If any danger were to arise, you would at least be able to defend yourself, and make a quick getaway.”

“How thoughtful of you to be concerned for my safety,” Lance said, disbelieving. “I’m shocked to hear that you think all these things about me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were complimenting me.”

“As much as I hate to admit it,” she began, begrudgingly. “If anyone were to find my children, it would be you. So, will you help me?”

Lance considered the entirety of her quest for a moment. What she was asking of him was not exactly a herculean task, but it was awfully close. Not only had he needed to locate a disbanded and long gone criminal organization, but he also had to find out what happened to the missing Beniko children. It would be difficult, but not impossible. But, if what Amaranth said were true about the Roketto-Dan’s return, then there was still hope.

He eyed her thoughtfully. He did not like her, but that did not mean he would refuse to help her. She was right to take him for a righteous man. Lance often found himself fighting for justice, for what was right. Discovering what happened to Prince Red and Princess Leaf would certainly be the right thing to do. And, bringing in the final remnants of the Roketto-Dan would bring justice and peace to the realm, or at least to the empress.

“Yes, Kōgō,” he said, applying the honorific, something he rarely did for her. “I will help you find your children.”

 


	2. ETHAN

In the early morning sun, the heat hot and blazing, Ethan was lying in the grass, his body spread out, his eyes shut as he basked in the warmth. The cool breeze, blowing through the trees and rustling the leaves, sounded like sweet music to his ears. Humming a soft tune, Ethan felt a calming peace he so often found whenever he ventured into the forests just outside of New Bark Town.

That was soon interrupted when he felt someone kick him in the soles of his worn-out boots.

Despite being pestered, Ethan kept his eyes closed tight, thoroughly ignoring the presence looming over him. He knew exactly who was bugging him, and he was determined to annoy them for as long as possible. Grinning, he curled up into a small ball, protecting himself for what he knew was going turn into a massive assault. He was soon kicked in the foot again, this time more forcefully. And afterwards, he felt something hit him in the head, causing him to groan in pain.

His eyes snapped open, and Ethan clutched his forehead, massaging the skin there as he searched for what had hit him. He needn’t look too far, as a couple of inches away, resting in the grass, was an apricorn. He reached for it, his fingers curling around the fruit. Above him, Kris stood, her hands on her hips, her brows knitted, her lips pursed.

“Get up,” she ordered him. “Stop being lazy, and next time, help me with the fucking apricorns.”

Ethan pushed himself to his feet, the apricorn clutched tightly in his fist. “You looked like you didn’t need my help,” he said. “I was just getting some rest.”

Kris gave him an incredulous look, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Had he not heard her struggled sighs? Her groans of frustration as she attempted to reach the higher hanging fruit?

Ethan, in response to her glare, spread his hands out, and said, “Relax a bit, Kris. Elm’s not expecting us to be back until noon. We don’t have to rush it.”

Kris rolled her eyes. “That is true,” she said. “But, I don’t want to stay out here longer than I have to. I hate the fucking woods.”

“Arceus!” Ethan exclaimed, mock astonishment. “You should know better than to curse like that. I think someone needs their mouth washed.”

Rolling her eyes again, Kris couldn’t help the smile that pulled at her lips. She shook her head, and started sauntering off. Waving her hand over her head dismissively, she said, in an exaggerated imitation of his Johto accent, “ _I think someone needs their mouth washed_.”

Ethan chuckled, trailing behind her as she traversed through the trees, heading deeper into the forest.

“Is that supposed to be me?” he asked. “Because if it is, I gotta say, you need to ramp up your game. That imitation was weak.”

Kris didn’t turn around, but even then, Ethan knew his friend was smiling ear-to-ear. She liked to tease him about his accent. But, to be frank, he didn’t think his Johto accent was _that_ pronounced. Sure, he could admit he had an odd way to go about speaking, but so did she. If anything, _he_ should be the one teasing _her._ As far as accents went, Ethan thought he sounded every bit as Johto as anyone else who resided in New Bark Town. It was Kris who was the one with the weird accent, as she wasn’t originally from the small farming village located in East Johto.

“ _That imitation was weak_ ,” she said, the exaggerated accent increasing to extremities.

“Ha ha,” he deadpanned. “You are so funny.”

“Thank you,” she said, throwing him a wink over her shoulder.

“Wait!” he called out, suddenly. “Watch out for that ariados!”

Alarmed, Kris whirled around, the look of absolute mortification on her face as she turned to face the long-legged pokémon. But, instead of seeing what so often scared her to death each and every time she saw one, Kris was faced with complete nothingness. All that was ahead of her were trees, trees, and more trees. No ariados in sight.

She turned to glare at Ethan. “Very funny.”

“I try,” he said, striding past her with a wide grin.

It was a well-known fact that Kris was afraid of pokémon, especially the frightening looking ones. The bigger their fangs, their teeth, their claws, the more terrified she was. It was sad really. Ethan didn’t understand why she was so afraid. Pokémon would never do anything to harm a human, unless they were provoked. They were peaceful creatures. Some were a bit territorial, but, for the most part, if they were left alone, they were of no real concern to humans.  He didn’t know where Kris’s fear came from really, but he could guess it probably had to do with a not so pleasant childhood experience. An experience she had yet to tell him about. Not that he minded it, but Ethan would be lying if he said he wasn’t the least bit curious about his friend’s childhood. He hadn’t known her too long. Only for about three years now. Her past, her life as a child, was still a huge mystery to Ethan. She never offered the information, so who was he to press her? All he knew was that one day, three years ago, his father had returned home with a small, quiet ten-year old girl, saying she would be living with them.

Kris fell into step beside Ethan, a deep scowl on her face, her arms crossed over her chest. She would be upset with him for a while, but eventually, she’d get over it, realizing she had provoked him into saying what he’d said. She always did.

Together, in silence, the two made their way forward, onward to a section of the forest where they knew to be an abundance of apricorn trees. They had to go quite deep through the trees, nearly approaching the border between Kanto and Johto. But, that was where a lot of apricorns could be found. The trees located a bit closer to New Bark Town, those were always picked clean. Miraculously, Kris had stumbled across a lone apricorn tree, one that must’ve been missed, so that was why the two friends had stopped, giving Ethan time to take a rest in the grass.

Mornings weren’t the greatest for Ethan; he liked his sleep. Normally, he would wake up an hour or so before noon, but, as of late, he was forced to rise with the sun, dragging his sleepy body out of bed and over to Kazu Elm, the local pokémon expert’s residence. Actually, to be honest, Ethan couldn’t say he was forced. He was _obligated._ As repentance for accidentally inciting his tauros on a wild rampage that left Elm with a destroyed fence, and a broken leg, Ethan and Kris thought it would behoove them to help him out until his leg healed. They’ve become somewhat of hired hands to the pokémon expert. Much like today, the two youths were tasked in collecting berries, or apricorns. They would also be sent out to Elm’s paddy field, where they would pick and pluck and gather rice stalks, or tend to his garden, or care for his pokémon, or clean his house, or any other type of chore he needed for them to do. It was a lot of work, but Ethan couldn’t complain. It was the least they could do for damaging his property, and his leg.

At first, Elm was a bit hesitant in accepting their aide. He already had a hired hand in a teenaged boy named Raiden, and did not blame them for destroying a part of his fence, or breaking his leg. He didn’t want to burden them, but they had insisted; it was the right thing to do. And Ethan always, _always_ did the right thing.

Kris, on the other hand, was reluctant to help out. Since Elm did not directly order them to assist him in his everyday chores, she did not feel like they had to do it. It would be a disservice to him, she had told Ethan. But, eventually, through constant cajoling and insisting on his part, she got around to doing it.

“Do you think the egg hatched today?” Ethan asked after a while. “The one from Azumarill?”

“Maybe,” Kris said, sounding disinterested.

“I hope so,” he said. “I can’t wait to see an azurill. They aren’t native to Kanto-Johto, so you can only get one around here by breeding, or physically traveling to Hoenn to catch one yourself.”

“Azurill are…?”

“A water-mouse pokémon,” Ethan supplied. “The pre-evolved form of marill.”

As if vaguely remembering, Kris nodded. “Oh yeah,” she mumbled.

For a little while longer, Ethan and Kris continued their trek through the forest until they finally reached the orchard of apricorn trees. Untying the large bag that had been fastened to his belt, Ethan stepped forward and began plucking apricorns off of lower hanging branches. Simultaneously, Kris did the same thing with her bag. Quiet and focused, the two went about picking the fruit.

While being too hard for pokémon to eat, Elm wanted his hired hands to collect apricorns mainly for the delicious juices found inside once the tougher exterior was cracked open. After draining them, Elm usually discarded the shells. It was a bit wasteful, but aside from being turned into pokéballs, something Elm had no idea how to do, apricorn shells were useless.

Steadily, Ethan got into a rhythm of plucking, and then dumping the fruit into his bag. At the same time, he decided he wanted to finish filling up his bag before Kris did. Even though she had gotten a head start, Ethan was determined in beating her. He increased his speed, jumping and running around his tree to gather as many as he could as fast as he could.

Kris stopped, placing her hands on her hips and snickering. “This isn’t a race,” she said.

“Not to you, but to me it―!”

Just then, Ethan was rammed in the shoulder, and knocked to the forest floor, his bag flying out of his hand, apricorns spilling everywhere. As Ethan grabbed his shoulder to nurse the pain, he gazed up to see a boy with red hair staring down at him, his dark eyes virtually emotionless.

“Watch where you’re going!” Kris shouted, stepping forward to help Ethan up. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The red-haired boy turned his darkened gaze on her, sizing up Kris for all she was worth. His eyes then slid over Ethan, taking in his position on the ground. His face, twisted into a sneer, a look of disgust, held no ounce of guilt for what he’d done. As the boy watched Ethan for a while, it became clear that he wasn’t going to apologize. The two boys just stared back at one another, a wordless standoff happening between them. And then, as if suddenly being ignited, the red-haired boy threw his head up to the sky, watching for something, listening for something.

Kris stepped toward the boy, grabbing him by the shoulder, forcing him to look at her. “Hey!” she began. “I asked you a fucking question, dick!”

The boy smacked her arm off of his body as soon as she touched him, his eyes narrowed to slits, his lips pulled into an ugly sneer. “Don’t touch me, bitch,” he snarled.

“Excuse me?” Kris demanded, her anger beginning to rise. “What the fuck did you just call me?”

“Fuck off,” the boy spat. And then, after barely glancing up at the sky again, the red-haired boy took off running in the direction of New Bark Town, disappearing out of their sight almost immediately.

 _He’s fast,_ Ethan thought.

Kris hauled Ethan to his feet, reaching down to pick up his discarded bag, and what remained of his gathered apricorns.

“That was rude,” she said, scoffing.

“He was probably coming in from Kanto,” he said. “It looked like he was in a hurry.”

“You think so? Because from what I saw, he didn’t have any bags,” she pointed out. “He was probably running away from something.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Ethan said. Then, thinking to make light of the situation, he added, “Maybe it was a horde of ariados.”

“Shut up,” Kris said, pushing him injured shoulder. When he let out a pained grunt, she smirked, handed him his bag, and said, “Serves you right. Now, go pick up these apricorns. Don’t want to let them go to waste.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, kneeling down and recollecting the apricorns he’d picked.

Kris chuckled and sauntered back over to the tree she been previously plucking clean. For the next few minutes, the two friends busied themselves with their work. Ethan was quick to finish gathering his apricorns, and ended up lying back down in the grass again, his body spread out and relaxed as he waited for Kris to be done.

In watching her work, Ethan took note of her appearance. Kris was a tall girl with a thin frame. In terms of height, she stood a few inches shorter than Ethan, but he was a tall boy to begin with. Her hair was a strange shade of blue, teal as she insisted it was called, that she normally wore in low twin-tails on her head, accented by long fringe. She had a clear peach complexion, and soft blue eyes, making her appear innocent and meek. But, as soon as she opened her mouth, however, it was clear that that was not the case. Her vocabulary was very explicit, and although she worked to achieve some moderation, if someone had slighted her, she would make sure they knew.

“Hey!” she called, bringing his attention back. Pointing up toward the sky, she said, “Look!”

Above them, flying a bit low, but just above the tree line, was an air-balloon. Ethan was astonished to see one so close. Air-balloons and airships didn’t fly over New Bark Town. When attempting to travel into Johto from Kanto, people usually steered far and past the small farming village, instead, opting to land in Violet. In harnessing the powers of fire-type pokémon, air-balloons and airships were used for quick transportation over long distances. Airships were used in massive transport, and air-balloons, like the one above Ethan’s head, often carried small amounts of people to faraway places a lot quicker than a ponyta or a rapidash could. The imperial court had some, Ethan knew, and most of the city-states throughout Kanto-Johto had docks and ports that housed them as well. Least to say, Ethan was awe-inspired, and very surprised to see that an air-balloon had come to New Bark Town.

“It’s air-balloon,” he said. “I think it’s going to land.”

“In the middle of town?” Kris asked. “We don’t have a dock.”

“I don’t think it’ll need one,” he said, his eyebrows raised as he gazed up at the sky, his eyes still trailing the air-balloon in amazement. “I wonder what it’s doing here.”

* * *

 

 

The crowd that had gathered in the middle of the market square in New Bark Town was large, especially considering how many people actually populated the small farming village. It was as if every single villager had emerged from their homes, family in tow, to see why an air-balloon had suddenly, and without warning, appeared in the sky.

The air-balloon had yet to land, and was still floating steadily above the townspeople. No movement, at least from where Ethan could see, was coming from inside of the wicker basket. In hushed anticipation, the villagers of New Bark Town waited, their necks craned up at the sky. Faint whispers, excited, quick, ekans-like, were the only things to be heard. It sounded like there were about a hundred arbok surrounding the market square, all of them hissing, preparing to attack. The early morning breeze blew past the onlookers, whipping through their hair and billowy shirts, stirring some of the dirt from the ground beneath their feet up into the air.

Ethan and Kris had only emerged from the forest moments before, their apricorn bags secured tightly at their belts, and were now situated toward the front of the crowd. Eyes as wide as saucers, Ethan watched on with excitement. Even as the minutes stretched past, and the spectators began to shift uneasily on their feet, Ethan waited with silent anticipation, his imagination running wild with what the air-balloon could possibly hold.

And then, the air-balloon began descending from the sky. Slowly, it floated down, making its descent. The closer and closer it got to the ground, the better visual Ethan got. As he gazed into the wicker basket, he saw that there were two people inside. A man and a woman. They were dressed similar to one another.

When the air-balloon finally landed, the man and the woman stepped out of it. With them, a lone houndour leapt from the basket, landing on its feet beside the young woman. Instantly, Ethan’s eyes widened and his mouth parted in awe. The young woman, though she looked to be about six or seven years older than him, was gorgeous. He could not help that he was gawking. Everything about her was striking. A golden glow seemed to surround her, and she was bathing in a shower of shiny, shimmering light. Ethereal. Angelic. She was absolutely angelic.

Like the man beside her, she wore a long black overcoat lined with a dark red trim, and short white leather gloves. Different than him were her boots, pristine and white, extending past her knees. They looked so pure, unsullied. She had violet eyes, and dark eyelashes, and her hair was a lustrous blonde that appeared more golden in color. It looked rich and vibrant. Too rich and vibrant to be real.

Ethan wondered about their outfits. They looked imperial, immaculate, pressed. If he knew anything about clean-looking clothes, then he would bet they belonged to nobility. Nobles were the only ones who could afford clothes as impeccable, as high quality as that. The white leather of their boots and gloves were unnatural. As shiny and arresting as they were, Ethan knew a person would only be able to possess such an artificial color if they had the money to do so. Leather came in shades of brown or black. Boots that came in white had either been dyed or painted. A single person would need to have a considerable amount of money to own such a pair.

“Is this…Chiji Lorelei and Chiji Bruno?” he whispered.

It was the only explanation his mind could come up with. The man beside the angelic girl was large and muscular. His arms were massive, and his hands looked like they were about the same size as Ethan’s entire head. His presence alone commanded everyone’s attention. 

Kris threw Ethan a disbelieving glance. “No,” she whispered back. “I don’t think so. Chiji Lorelei looks like Chiji Lance. She would have red hair. Remember?”

“Oh.”

In concerning the happenings of the imperial court, and the four chiji of Kanto-Johto, the information he knew about them was limited. He was aware there were four of them, Bruno, Lance, Lorelei, and Agatha. And, he was vaguely aware of their ages; he knew Chiji Agatha Sato was a bit older than the rest. But, that was mainly because of what his mother told him.

Lance Ryuzaki, the chiji of East Johto, was the only one Ethan truly knew about, as he presided over New Bark Town, and thus, was significant in his existence and well-being. Chiji Lance, in keeping his duties as a governor, was responsible for the two city-states of Mahogany and Blackthorn, as well as Cherrygrove City and New Bark Town. In Ethan’s house, there was a portrait of the man that hung on the wall just above the dining table. It was a dated portrait, about a decade old. But, for as long as he could remember, fifteen-year old Lance Ryuzaki has been watching over Ethan, Kris, and his mother as they ate their meals. It was an eerie thought for Ethan, having such a stone-faced boy stare down at him as he ate _jianbing_. Kris didn’t seem to mind at all. She thought Chiji Lance was gorgeous, handsome. She was completely enamored with the portrait, and Lance.

With the other chiji, Ethan wasn’t quite sure what they were like. The information he had on them was based solely on what he was told, or heard around the village. Chiji Bruno was a huge man, who was about as strong as his fighting-type pokémon. Chiji Lorelei was said to be breathtakingly beautiful, with a certain regality one would find when gazing at a statue. An elegant, magnificent, expertly-carved statue. He heard other things about her too. Inappropriate, perverted things the old men who ran the stalls in the marketplace always talked about.

Even so, Ethan didn’t think it was wrong for him to believe that the two who presented themselves before the villagers of New Bark Town were Chiji Lorelei and Chiji Bruno.

Up ahead, the man turned to the angelic woman, signaling for her to move. In taking his orders, she unbuttoned her overcoat, and dug inside one of the pockets, searching for something. As she did so, Ethan watched with intense interest. Similarly, he became aware that Kris was giving him an irritated look, though he wasn’t quite sure why. He chose to ignore it. She always ended up annoyed with him for one thing or another.

The golden-haired girl, in finding what she was looking for, pulled her gloved hand out of her coat pocket, producing a piece of fabric. From where Ethan stood, it looked like it might’ve once been a part of an article of clothing. Ripped or torn off.

“Sundance,” she said, calling the houndour at her side to attention. She then held out her hand, the piece of cloth held tight in her fist. At her call, the houndour stood up on its hind legs, carefully taking the cloth from its master’s hand. Then, dropping it to the dirt below, Sundance inhaled the fabric, its nostrils twitching as it took in the scent.

“Get on with it, Cassidy,” the man said. “Does it know if the boy is here or not?”

“Quiet,” the golden-haired woman said. “Sundance is the best tracker there is. If the boy were here, he would know.”

Suddenly, the houndour let out two short, sharp barks, and pawed at the dirt. It was all very peculiar to Ethan, who was still transfixed and mesmerized by the golden-haired girl. Cassidy, the man had called her.

Kneeling down, her white boots making contact with the ground, the dirt pressing into the once-clean material, Cassidy stroked her houndour softly, whispering something to it Ethan couldn’t quite hear. As he watched the short exchange, he could not help but lament at how sullied her boots now were. So beautiful, and yet, tarnished by the filth of his town. He felt a sudden annoyance with the people surrounding him, with the uncleanliness that was so glaringly present everywhere he looked.

“He’s been here,” she told her partner.

The large man straightened his back, and then turned his gaze up to address the silent crowd of spectators before him.

“Villagers,” he began, his voice carrying throughout the square. “We’re looking for a boy. A skinny, scrawny, red-haired boy with pale skin. Aged about thirteen.”

He then unbuttoned his overcoat, and dug inside one of the pockets before producing a piece of parchment paper. He held it out in front of him, showing it to the gathered crowd of villagers. Catching sight of the portrait, Ethan’s eyes widened in recognition. He turned to see if Kris was thinking the same thing. Only, she wasn’t. Instead, her eyes were narrowed, her brows knit. A suspicious look had taken shape on her face.

“It’s him,” he whispered. “The boy from the woods.”

“Quiet, Ethan,” she whispered back, shaking her head. “I don’t like this. Something feels wrong.”

“We know that he is here. There is no hiding it. Possibly, one of you may have idiotically taken him into your home for protection,” the man continued, his voice loud, authoritative. “I will assure you if that were the case, you have made a terrible mistake. He is a wanted fugitive who has evaded capture for far too long. It would behoove you to come forward with any information you may have concerning him. Turn him over now, and we will be on our way. Otherwise, I will be forced to take action. ”

His words hung in the air like a thick blanket for a long while. No one dared to say anything. Ethan wondered if he should step up, but the suspicious look on Kris’s face told him to wait. And even then, she had seized his wrist, holding it tightly, preventing him from moving forward.

Even with the lack of response, the man waited, silently and patiently. Standing at parade rest, he scanned the mass of peasants before him, a look of mild disgust, of distaste on his face as he appraised each and every one of them. Minutes dragged by, and still there was no reply.

Ethan kept his eyes on Cassidy, who was still knelt beside her houndour.

 _What an extraordinary pokémon,_ he thought.

And then, when the silence didn’t seem like it would continue any longer, the large man smirked. It was the most eerie of things. The smile he produced, lips pulled back, white teeth bared, made Ethan feel unsettled. It was reminiscent of a feral pokémon. A rabid beast. Something about it struck Ethan with a sense of foreboding.

“I suppose I’m just going to have to drag it out of you,” he said, reaching for his belt, and unclipping six pokéballs.

The man held them out in his hands, up for the crowd to see. Then, with a flick of his wrists, the pokéballs flew up in the air above his head, and six dark-black, quadrupedal pokémon landed in the dirt before him.

A collective gasp sounded out from the crowd, and everyone took a step back.

“What kind of fucking pokémon is _that_?” Kris asked, fearfully.

“Houndoom,” Ethan murmured.

“I’m sure all of you are quite aware,” the man said. “That if you were to be burned by a houndoom’s flame, the pain would last eternally. But, you would only have to worry about that if you managed to survive the attack.”

“ _What?_ ” Kris cried.

“They contain deadly toxins,” Ethan told her. “It stays in the body forever, even long after it burns you.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” she cursed. “ _Fuck_.”

“So,” the man began. “I will ask you again. Where is the boy?”

“We haven’t seen him!” a townswoman shouted. “He’s not here!”

All eyes turned in her direction at the other side of the crowd. Plump, short and round, Ethan knew the townswoman to be the baker’s wife. She looked frightened out of her mind, perhaps the most frightened of all the villagers. Save for Kris. With wide eyes, and a fat face covered in sweat, she was trembling like a leaf.

Beside her, the baker shot his wife an irritated look, muttering something to her Ethan couldn’t quite hear.

The large man, in sensing the baker’s wife’s terror, started towards her. Coming to a stop exactly one arm’s length away from her, he leaned in close, and asked, challengingly, “Are you certain?”

“Y-yes,” the baker’s wife managed.

The man stared at her for a long while, causing the baker’s wife to squirm uncomfortably. Then, after he finished scrutinizing the poor townswoman, the man offered her his wide, toothy smile.

“You’re lying,” he told her.

“N-no…no…I-I…I’m not…I’m not lying,” the baker’s wife stammered.

“My wife is…most unwell,” the baker said. “She gets flustered in the heat. The summer months bring out the worst in her. My apologies.”

The large man turned his gaze on the baker, staring him in the face, his hollow eyes boring into the poor man’s soul. And all the baker could do under the man’s gaze was to remain still, unflinching. That proved to be easier said than done because in an instant, the large man had whipped out a long, wicked blade. Curved and sharp to the touch, he pointed the tip of the knife up to the baker’s neck.

The townsfolk stirred uneasily, another collective gasp on every one of their lips. Kris tightened her grip on Ethan’s wrist, her nails digging into his skin. She was frightened.

“I just hate it when people lie to me,” the man growled over his shoulder to Cassidy.

“Tyson…” she began, reproach in her voice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the baker said, defensively. He made to step back, but thought otherwise once he saw the look on the man’s face. Holding his hands out carefully, he said, “I didn’t lie to you. My wife didn’t lie to you. We haven’t seen the boy. None of us have. And…” he paused, and glanced at the onlookers, searching for some sort of reassurance. “I don’t know who you are. Or why you think you can come to my town and scare us like this. You’re lucky none of us have alerted the city watch.”

“I must be very lucky,” Tyson said, flatly. “Very lucky indeed.”

“New Bark Town has no city watch,” Cassidy said as she stood up. She threw the baker an inquisitive look, and asked, “Do you think we’re stupid?”

The baker opened his mouth in surprise. Surprise that the woman had saw through his bluff.

Stepping forward, she said, observantly, “Since you were so quick to deny that the boy was here, and your wife is just about sweating buckets, there is no doubt that you, yourself, know of the boy’s whereabouts.” She came to a stop before him, her head tilted slightly. “Where are you harboring him?”

Feeling cornered, by the knife pointed at him, and by the woman who was standing before him, the baker shook his head, denying it. Denying everything.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“You’re lying. Where is he?” Cassidy asked again, more forcibly this time.

“I told you. I don’t know.”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

“He’s doesn’t know,” the baker’s wife squeaked. “He…I haven’t seen him. We never saw the boy.”

“Where are you harboring him?”

“I didn’t see him. I haven’t seen―!”

“ENOUGH!”

The baker’s words were cut short with the large man’s outburst, soon followed by a sudden cry that rang out through the square. Ethan couldn’t see what had happened right away, but from where he stood, it was clear that someone had cried out in surprise. He also noticed there was a fresh wave of blood splattered across the baker’s face.

The baker was quick to notice the blood too. With a tentative hand, he reached up and touched his face, his fingers shaking as he brought them back to eye level. A stifled sob left his lips as he turned to see the source of the blood. Standing completely still, the baker’s wife was staring wide-eyed, mouth agape, her hands held up to her neck as blood began pouring from her open gash in torrents. She soon crumpled to the ground with a loud thud, dead. All throughout the market square, the villagers of New Bark Town gasped. Some started to scream.

Like a wounded pokémon, the baker howled in pain. He dropped to his knees beside his wife, cradling her lifeless body. His whole form trembled, and tears were running down his face.

Before them, Tyson looked on with indifference. The knife he held was covered in blood, and red streaks were steadily running down the blade, down the hilt, onto the back of his hands, staining his white gloves. He turned to face the crowd, his eyes flashing. Mad. Feral. Ethan suddenly felt very fearful.

At the sight of the blood, the houndoom began to yowl, their jaws snapping open and shut, fangs bared. They shifted on their paws anxiously, low growls resonating from their throats. Was it possible they were hungry? Ethan couldn’t tell. He didn’t know if pokémon were capable of eating humans, but the longer he watched the houndoom, the more unsettled he got.

Similarly, Sundance, the lone houndour, watched on warily. Its comrades were barking and howling, and snapping their teeth together hungrily. All it could do was stare, readily and expectantly, at its golden-haired master.   

“You’re a monster,” the baker said between clenched teeth, rising from the dirt suddenly. His fist was clenched, and he made to swing at the man. “You’re a murderer―”

Quickly, Tyson pivoted on his heel, his boot making direct contact with the baker’s face, knocking him to the ground. Blood began to rush out from his nostrils, gushing from his nose, running down his chin and onto his cotton tunic. 

“Where is the―?”

Tyson’s voice was soon lost in the ocean of screams that began to ring out from all sides of the crowd, reverberating throughout the market square. The sight of blood had been enough to incite the houndoom into a mad frenzy. Their barks had reached their peak, and they had darted forward toward the baker. Their teeth were bared, and they set themselves upon the injured man, maws snapping as they looked for something to chomp on. The baker held up his hands to protect himself. He cried out in alarm, in pain. He begged the man to call off his pokémon, but it was to no avail. With a turn of the head, and a wave of the hand, Tyson signaled the beasts forward.

And they attacked.

Mass hysteria, panic. It was quick to erupt, and the townsfolk began running off in separate directions, screaming. Shouting. Crying out in horror. People tripped, were trampled over. Everyone was terrified. Some people, some men, rushed forward toward Cassidy and her partner in an attempt to try to subdue them. It was a fruitless effort. As soon as they got too close, Tyson’s pack of houndoom rushed up and attacked, blood staining the fur around their snouts, dripping from their teeth. Immediately, the men were lit on fire, ignited by the houndoom’s flamethrower attack. The lot of them started to burn, their screams ringing out, loud, blood-curling, as the fire consumed their bodies. As the flames melted their skin.

Among the screams, and the commotion, Ethan caught bits and pieces of people shouting.

“Round up the tauros. Hurry!”

“The tauros won’t help. The fire will scare them away!”

“They’re going to burn down the entire village!”

“What do we do?”

“Someone get Matsu!”

“Matsu?”

The last voice had belonged to Tyson.

From where Ethan stood, he could see that the name had ignited something within him. Vague recognition flashed across his face, and he turned to Cassidy. Equally, the young woman appeared to be experiencing the same emotions. But not for too long, as a sudden look of suspicion and disbelief was quick to materialize on her face.

“Ethan…” Kris said, calling him to attention. Her voice was shaking. “Ethan…”

Suddenly becoming aware of the girl beside him, Ethan saw that his friend was trembling in fear. Her blue eyes were wide, glazed over, and her lower lip was wobbling. She was not among the ones who were screaming, but Ethan could see the fear plain on her face. The terror had taken hold of her. It had grasped her, held her tight, tethering her down where she stood. She wouldn’t be able to move on her own, he knew. Whenever she became fearful, Kris would freeze up, and become immobile. In the corner of her eyes, he noticed tears were beginning to well up there. Taking her hand, he tugged her forward.

“We’re going to get out of here,” he told her, reassuringly. “We’re going to get out of here.”

She only nodded in response, but even then, Ethan had them rushing forward, joining the mass of people who were running away in terror.

* * *

 

 

“Mom!” Ethan shouted. “Mom!”

As he entered his house, out of breath, completely exhausted from the run, Ethan frantically searched for his mother. Coming in after him, Kris collapsed to the floor in a heavy heap, her knees making a loud thud as they hit the wooden planking. She held her head in her hands and began to sob, her breathing still uneven, becoming more labored as she cried. Her hands were still shaking.

“Mom!” he called again.

“Ethan?” came his mother’s voice.

Ethan skidded to an abrupt stop, and turned around to the back of the house where he found his mother. She was emerging through the door, a basket of laundry in her hands, a concerned look forming on her face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. Then, seeing Kris’s crumpled position on the floor, Maira Kaneko rushed forward, setting the basket aside, taking the young girl into her arms. “Kris? Are you all right? What happened? What’s wrong?”

Kris gave her no reply. Instead, she continued to weep. All the while, Maira began stroking her adoptive daughter carefully, soothingly.

“Ethan,” his mother said. “What happened to Kris?”

“She’s scared,” he told her.

“Scared?” his mother asked, incredulous. “Why is she scared?”

“Blood,” Kris mumbled, still weeping. “There was blood. And fire. And big pokémon. With sharp teeth. They burned people. Men. Strong men. Big men. The pokémon burned them all alive.”

“What?” Maira asked. “Ethan, what is she going on about?”

“A man and a woman came down from the sky in an air-balloon. They were looking for a boy. A boy with red-hair. A boy that Kris and I saw in the woods,” he said. “They said he was a wanted fugitive, and told everyone gathered in the square they knew he was here. In New Bark Town. And that we had to turn him over. But, no one stepped forward. No one knew where he was.”

“They burned everyone alive,” Kris mumbled again. “The pokémon burned everyone alive.”

“What do you mean by that, Kris?” Maira asked, firmly, her voice taking on a serious tone.

“They burned everyone alive,” she said again.

“Ethan?” his mother asked, her grey eyes pleading for him to clarify.

“The man had a pack of houndoom,” he explained. “He _killed_ someone, Mom. The man that came from the sky killed someone.”

“With his houndoom?”

“No,” Ethan said. “Yes. No…He killed the baker’s wife with a long knife.”

“Why did he kill her?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But, the baker. He looked so sad. He sounded so sad. The man, the big man with the long knife, he kicked him in the face. I couldn’t see if he was all right. I hope he’s all right…”

Ethan’s thoughts drifted back to the last image he had of the baker. His nose had looked broken, and he had been bleeding profusely. The houndoom that had surrounded and shrouded him from view brought a queasy feeling to Ethan’s stomach. They looked so hungry. So feral. So _primitive._ He refused to believe what he saw was real. It couldn’t be. Everything had to have been a dream. A figment of his overactive imagination. It had to.

“We can only pray that he is,” Maira said, though she did not sound heartfelt. Carefully, she hoisted Kris to her feet, holding her steady beside her. “Kris, I’m going to take you to your room. Is that okay?”

Kris nodded slightly, her head barely moving as she made the motion. Maira took her by the arm then, guiding her down the hallway to her room, where she gently set her down on the low mattress. When his mother returned, she stepped toward Ethan, tenderly holding her son’s face in her hands.

“What about you?” she asked. “Are you all right?”

Ethan shook her hand away. “I’m fine. Honest, Mom.”

“Good,” Maira said, offering him a small smile.

“Mom,” he began. “The houndoom. They only attacked the men because they started running toward them.”

“Them?”

“The man and the woman.”

“Oh,” she said. “Well, I suppose the pokémon felt their friends needed their protection.”

“Protection,” Ethan echoed, his voice distant. “I wonder if Matsu was able to help.”

“Matsu?” Maira asked. “The pokémon trainer with the hitmontop?”

Ethan nodded. “They went to go get him.”

On the far side of town, down the road from where Ethan’s house was, lived a man named Matsu. A fairly decent trainer, Matsu was a quiet, reclusive man who lived alone, and rarely left his house. Ethan and Kris would always pass by his residence when heading over to Elm’s house, as he was his neighbor. Matsu was also one of the only people in New Bark Town who owned a pokémon.

It was hard to believe, but the people of New Bark Town didn’t have many pokémon. That was because they had no real need for them. Save for the ones used practically like tauros or pidgey, many of the villagers never saw the need to own one. They were more or less like pets anyway. And even then, the villagers of New Bark Town viewed pokémon as wild beasts. Monsters who could easily destroy anything and anyone that got in their path.

“Did they?” his mother asked, her brows scrunching together. “I haven’t seen anyone come this way. I’ve been in the yard all morning, with Tauros, and we haven’t seen anyone run off in that direction.”

“No one?”

Maira Kaneko shook her head.

Already, Ethan’s mind was racing. His eyes darted to the door that led out to the yard, where Tauros was.

 _Someone needs to get Matsu,_ he thought.

Without a second thought, Ethan sprinted for the door, leaping out into the yard. Quickly, he dashed over to Tauros, a pokémon that had once belonged to his father, back when he was alive. It has since been kept contained in the large yard behind the Kaneko house. At one point, Tauros was used as a cart-pokémon. In helping plow the fields, and the massive farm that once occupied the entirety of the Kaneko’s back yard, Tauros use to aid the family in nearly every harvest. Those were better times. But, since Ethan’s father died, Maira and Ethan couldn’t find it in themselves to work as hard. The large farm they once owned was reduced only to a small sector of their yard. The lot of soil closest to the house was the only spot that ever got worked.

“Ethan!” his mother shouted. “What are you doing?”

“Someone needs to get Matsu,” he told her as he placed a saddle on Tauros. “People are hurt. Matsu can help. He’s a pokémon trainer.”

Maira stood completely still, her arms folded, pressed into her chest tightly. From where she was, standing on the stone steps, broken down and starting to crumble from decades of wear, his mother seemed to age ten years. She looked tired, and exhausted. She always did whenever Ethan went off like this. In the beginning, she was reluctant to let him go. She’d keep him back and hold him in the house, in his room. But, it didn’t matter if she objected or told him otherwise. Her son was a stubborn boy, who loved to go off on adventures. Into the woods, or out in town. Exploring the world around him. If she kept him locked up, he’d find a way out. When Kris started living with them, Maira would send her after him. But, it never worked out in her favor. Kris would end up getting roped into his little expeditions each and every time. So now, whenever Ethan was determined to head out, his mother could do nothing but watch him go.

“Be careful,” she said, softly. “Tauros gets frightened easily. You don’t want a repeat of last time to happen.”

She was referring to the incident with Elm’s leg.

“Don’t worry about me,” he said, securing the straps of the saddle around the large pokémon. “I’ll be fine.”

Ethan patted Tauros gently but firmly, urging it to move forward. He guided the bovine pokémon out through a gate and onto the winding path that stretched all the way to the far end of the village. Then, he mounted the tauros, his fingers curling around the reins. With a quick jerk, Ethan had Tauros charging forward, down the dirt-covered road that led to Matsu’s house.

When he arrived in front of the local pokémon trainer’s home, Ethan didn’t know what to expect. He hardly ever saw the man, as he often kept himself confined within the walls of his little house. He knew he owned a hitmontop. Most of the town knew that. And, really, that was only because of the massive commotion everyone made about it when some lone passerby had caught sight of it. Yes, the people of New Bark Town saw pokémon other than the ones they owned for practical reasons more like threats to humanity than anything else. But, they could appreciate a rare pokémon, at least in terms of locality, when they saw one.

Dismounting, Ethan held Tauros’ reins steady in one fist as he searched for somewhere to tie it down. Just across the road was Elm’s house, the boundaries of his property marked by solid, wooden fences. Ethan’s eyes settled on a break in the fencing, and he winced at the memory. It looked as if something had trampled over it, something especially large, and heavy. It also looked like someone had been working to fix it. Though, its completion had yet to be completed.

Ethan turned away, and offered Tauros a small smile. The pokémon was eyeing him, and the fence, intensely. Perhaps it knew it had done something wrong. Or, perhaps it sensed the guilt Ethan felt. Either way, Tauros was uncharacteristically quiet as Ethan tied it down to a nearby post. After patting its muscled body once, Ethan went over to the steps that led up to Matsu’s house, ascending them swiftly.

He pounded on the door. “Matsu!” he called. “Matsu!”

There was no reply.

Ethan tried again, banging his fist on the door, harder this time.

“Matsu!”

He grabbed for the knob, hoping to see if it would open. No such luck. It was locked.

“Matsu isn’t here.”

Ethan whirled around at the sound of a voice behind him.

Standing there, in the middle of the road, was Raiden, Elm’s live-in hired hand. He was a serious, no-nonsense teenaged boy, whose face, nearly expressionless, was often shielded under a sedge hat. His voice was emotionless, and much of what he said sounded like deadpan. Ethan was never sure if he was joking or not, but he found himself laughing despite himself on more occasions than one. That was because he was uncomfortable, and didn’t know what to say. He did that a lot, laugh when he felt awkward.

“What do you mean?” Ethan asked.

“Matsu isn’t here,” Raiden said again, his voice flat. “He left.”

“Left?” he asked. “Where did he go?”

Raiden shrugged, a look of indifference on his face, as he said, “I wouldn’t know.”

“But, you seem like you do,” Ethan argued.

“He went off somewhere. A pokémon journey, I would assume,” the older boy said. “He left his house sometime yesterday.”

“How do you know that?”

“I was out fixing the fence,” he deadpanned. “The one you and your tauros broke. Remember?”

Ethan rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. He laughed lightly, a strained smile pasted onto his face. “I remember,” he said.

“What are you doing looking for Matsu, anyway? Shouldn’t you be gathering apricorns with Kris?” Raiden asked. His eyes, barely moving, scanned the area around them. “Where is she?”

“Kris is at home,” Ethan admitted. “She isn’t feeling well.”

“She looked fine this morning.”

“There was an attack on the town,” Ethan said. “These people…” His eyes suddenly caught shape of something up in the sky. It was the air-balloon, floating away. “…are gone.”

Scowling, Raiden turned his gaze up at the retreating air-balloon. He looked severely disinterested, and, frankly, annoyed to be having to deal with Ethan’s antics. Only, they weren’t just antics. They were real concerns.

“An attack on the town,” Raiden said, flatly. “It sure must’ve been some attack.”

“It was,” he said. “I wonder what it was that made them leave. Something must’ve happened…”

* * *

 

And as it turned out, something had.

When Ethan had returned to the square later that day, he found the townsfolk had set about repairing the damages done to their marketplace. Some of the surrounding building had caught fire, and were now partially burned down. The stalls that lined the dirt-covered streets had been crushed during the panic and hysteria. Vendors were now sifting through the rubble, seeing if they could salvage any of their lost merchandise.

Among other things, the disgusting and putrid smell of burnt flesh drifted through the air. It clung to the villagers’ clothes, and the surrounding area. Ethan gagged, and held his sleeve up to his mouth and nose to block the stench.

There were also bodies strewn all throughout the square. The houndoom had burned many more people alive than Ethan had seen. The attack must’ve continued long after he and Kris ran off. Similarly, he noticed the large, bulky carcass of a tauros. Blood had pooled around it, and as Ethan neared it to investigate further, he saw that its throat had been ripped out. There were many other bite marks on its neck, face, and torso, but Ethan made himself look away. His stomach began to lurch at the sight.

Up ahead, a small crowd had gathered around what appeared to be a small black hill. Upon closer inspection, Ethan realized that it was actually a pile of dead pokémon. The houndoom. Someone had dragged their carcasses, and placed them into a single pile. The six of them, their dark eyes widened in what must’ve been the last look they ever had, were lying on top of each other. Some of their necks had been snapped. A few had their bodies crushed in. The mouth of one houndoom in particular was completely smashed. Its jaw was hanging freely, nearly falling out from the socket. It was all completely grotesque.

Blood soaked the ground beneath Ethan’s feet.

“Burn them,” a man with a crooked tooth hissed. “Burn the fuckers.”

“They’re part fire-type,” another man told him. “It won’t do much.”

“ _Part_ fire-type,” the first man said. “They can still burn.”

“What happened?” Ethan asked aloud.

“A few people rounded up the tauros,” a woman with ebony hair explained. “They saved us from the houndoom _._ ”

“Unfortunately, the two got away in that air-balloon of theirs,” the man with the crooked tooth said. “Fucking cowards. I would’ve flayed them alive. Maybe scalped the girl. She had a nice head of hair.”

Ethan winced at the thought.

“Shut up, Barton,” an older man with a hooked nose said. “You wouldn’t have done jack squat, and you know it.”

“At least I didn’t shit myself like you did.”

“Who were they?” Ethan asked.

“Bounty hunters, I would guess,” the ebony-haired woman from before told him. “They said they were looking for some boy.”

“Yeah,” Barton said, spitting into the dirt. “Only we haven’t seen a boy like that. _Red hair_. Shit. If someone came into town with red hair, the whole lot of us would’ve been talking ‘bout it.”

“You’re right about that,” the old man with the hooked nose said. “Ain’t nobody got colored hair like that ‘round here.”

“Except for that girlfriend of yours,” Barton said, looking at Ethan.

“What?” he exclaimed, his face reddening. “She’s practically my sister.”

“Whatever you say, kid,” Barton said, dismissively.

“Y’know what I think,” the old hooked-nosed man said. “I think those two who came from the sky, dressed all fancy like. I think they were a part of the Roketto-Dan.”

“The Roketto-Dan hasn’t been around for years,” the ebony-haired woman said. “Last I heard, they disbanded after Giovanni got captured.”

“Where’d you hear that?” the old man asked. “Giovanni didn’t get captured. He’s dead. They killed him.”

“Who killed him?” the woman asked.

“Shit, I don’t know. Chiji Lance maybe,” the old man said. “He’s got those dragons. I’m sure he probably had his dragonite turn that lord of Viridian into a pile of ashes.”

“Yeah,” Barton agreed. “I hear those things can decimate an entire city-state with just one blast.”

“You two are idiotic,” the ebony-haired woman said, rolling her eyes. “Dragons can’t do that. And, even if those two were Roketto-Dan, why in the name of Arceus would they be hunting a thirteen-year old boy?”

“How the fuck should I know?” the old man asked in irritation. “Does it look like I’m part of the Roketto-Dan?”

“No.”

“Then, get off my back, woman.”

“What about the baker?” Ethan asked. “What…Is he all right?”

“Kid,” Barton said. “I don’t know what you saw, but―”

“He’s dead,” the old man stated, plainly. He tapped one of the houndoom with his boot. “They tore him to shreds.”

“He didn’t even…he didn’t even see the boy,” Ethan argued. “Why did they kill him?”

“They’re Roketto-Dan. They probably kill people for fun. They’ve killed pokémon for fun before,” the old man said.

The woman groaned, and said, “They were not Roketto-Dan.”

“He didn’t deserve to die like that,” Ethan said, softly.

“The world is a cruel place, kid,” Barton said. “And, pokémon are dangerous creatures that shouldn’t be trifled with.”

“But, it wasn’t the houndoom’s fault,” he said. “They only did what their master told them to do. What he trained them to do. They had no choice.”

“They had no choice?” Barton asked, his eyebrows rising in astonishment. “It sure looked like they had a choice when they started burnin’ half of the town to the ground.”

In gazing up at all of the eyes set on him, Ethan suddenly felt no desire to further argue on behalf of the pokémon dead at his feet. The villagers of New Bark Town were closed-minded when it came to pokémon. Arguing about it with them would be futile.

He lowered his eyes, and stared down at his feet.

“Do you think they might’ve known?” a young girl asked. “The baker and his wife?”

“About what?” the old man asked.

“About the red-haired boy,” she said.

The old man scoffed, “I doubt it. I don’t think the kid was even here to begin with. All of that mumbo jumbo about that houndour, and it’s trackin’ abilities. I didn’t believe it for a second.”

As the townspeople continued to converse with one another about what they thought about the day’s events, Ethan slowly began to slink away. Having stood there for too long, he was beginning to feel queasy. The sight of the houndoom had become too much. And, aside from that, something had begun to grip at his insides. Even as he made his way out of the market square, past the charred bodies, and the path of destruction left by the houndoom and their masters, he could not shake the feeling of guilt that started to wash over him.

He had seen the red-haired boy. He had s _een_ him. The man and the woman, Tyson and Cassidy, they had been looking for him. He could’ve come forward and told them what he knew. He had wanted to, but Kris hadn’t let him. Something had felt off, she had told him.

As it turned out, she had been right. Bounty hunters. Roketto-Dan. Whoever those people were, they were trouble. The red-haired boy must’ve done something terribly wrong to have attracted such attention. Even still, it must not have been _that_ bad. They said the boy was only thirteen, the same age as Ethan. What on earth could he have possibly done to have such dangerous people to come after him? Murdered someone?

All of these thoughts swirled through Ethan’s head as he returned to his house.

Later, as he lied awake, staring at the ceiling from his mattress, Ethan’s mind began replaying the day’s events over and over and over again. The image of the baker and his wife, murdered in cold blood in front of his very eyes, was enough to make Ethan wonder what would have happened if he’d spoken up. Would the baker and his wife still be alive? And if so, what would Tyson have done to him? He hadn’t known much information about the red-haired boy’s whereabouts. But, it was information regardless. Could he have stopped the bloodshed?

He never settled on a definitive answer, and was soon drifting off into deep sleep.

Somewhere in the nearby distance, a lone pokémon howled, loud and disoriented. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And, that was Ethan! I hope you all like the general direction I’ve decided to take with his character. In theory, Ethan/Gold/Hibiki is whoever you, the player, decide to make him to be. He’s not exactly OOC, since he was never given an actual personality to begin with. Of course, as the hero of the games, he has to retain the ‘must-save-the-world-from-destruction-and-evil’ attitude. But, aside from that, he’s basically my own creation. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading. I am always eager to know what you think.


	3. KRIS

Tepidly shuffling down the path that led to Elm’s house at the far end of New Bark Town, Kris dragged her feet through the dirt, her gaze casted downward as she listened to her friend blabber on about his usual trivial nonsense. She was not quite sure what he was rambling about this time. Maybe pokémon? Ethan was always going on and on and on about pokémon.

“Don’t you agree, Kris?” he asked, suddenly.

“Uh huh.”

“Exactly!” he exclaimed. “People in this town don’t seem to understand pokémon like we do. They’re kind creatures…”

Kris tuned him out again. Yep. He was definitely talking about pokémon.

Stifling a yawn behind her hand, Kris had to blink the sleep out of her eyes for what had to have been the third time since she and Ethan left their house. She was so incredibly tired. With the events of yesterday constantly tugging at her mind, Kris had found it difficult to fall asleep. Her eyes had refused to stay closed. Images of death and destruction and fire and blood, it had grappled with her, threatened to take her, to consume her. The thought of the houndoom, and their large fangs, maws dripping with blood, was something she just couldn’t shake out of her mind. Drifting off had proven difficult, especially with the possibility of encountering such monstrosities threatening to emerge while she slept. There were others things too she just didn’t want to encounter. Terrible, horrible things. Things she had worked so hard to suppress. And, as of late, everything just seemed to want to bubble back up to the surface.

As the two friends continued down the path, Kris took notice of an older man leading a tauros-drawn cart filled with fresh vegetables coming toward them. He was most likely heading off to the market square, hoping to sell his produce.

When the man neared, Kris instantly felt his eyes on her. Small, dark, beady eyes, sizing her up for all she was worth, burning into her entire being. It was her hair; he was looking at her hair. Kris felt her cheeks warm, and she tore her gaze away, feeling self-conscious.

As he passed them, Kris grabbed at her tresses, pulling it out of its normal hairstyle, letting it fall down her back. Stubbornly, she brushed a teal strand behind her ear, and casted her eyes downward again.

The people of New Bark Town, as she was quick to learn, were provincial, and very tightly-knit. News spread like wildfire in the town. If something was odd, or out of the ordinary, the whole village would be talking about it the very next day. In Kris’s case, when she had first arrived with Perre Kaneko, Ethan’s father, three years ago, the town was quick to eat her up over her hair. It was a strange color. Blue. Teal. Whatever she called it, it really didn’t matter to them. Colored hair was a strange sight to be seen in such a small farming village like New Bark Town. Even now, years later, Kris still managed to find someone giving her a strange look whenever she was out and about. She tried to ignore it, and, for the most part, it didn’t affect her. That was until they quit being discrete about it and opted to just openly stare at her.

“Your hair is really long,” Ethan said, bringing Kris out of her thoughts.

He reached his hand forward and took ahold of a lock, tugging it gently. Kris pulled away, snatching her hair from his hand.

“So?”

Ethan’s eyebrows shot up, and he said, “Calm down, Kris. I wasn’t trying to offend you.” His face softened, and he threw her a tender gaze, gently adding, “It looks good down. You should wear your hair like this more often.”

Kris regarded her friend for a moment, assessing his words carefully. And then, after deciding he wasn’t mocking her, Kris relaxed and smiled slightly. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

“It’s my pleasure.”

The two youths walked in silence afterwards, the air around them awkward and uncomfortable as they moved steadily along.

In keeping her friend’s pace, Kris brushed her teal tresses out of her face, suddenly becoming annoyed with it. As she fidgeted with it, she noticed Ethan was watching her through the corner of his eye.

Ethan was an awkwardly tall, energetic, and enthusiastic boy. He was very talkative, and, in Kris’s opinion, too naïve. He loved the world for what it was, and didn’t seem to think anything wrong could come from it. Especially from beautiful things. And, oh did Ethan like beautiful things. That was something Kris hated about her friend. As soon as he saw something beautiful, he’d instantly become enamored with it. This, more often than not, always applied to girls who were older than him. In their presence, he was like a love-struck growlithe.

His hair was as dark black as a murkrow’s feathers, and his eyes were a striking steel grey. They were mesmerizing, and often, full of mischief, especially when he had adventure on his mind.

Kris liked that about him, though. His knack for adventure, his fearlessness, it was something she often wished could be said about her.

As the boundaries of Elm’s property came into view, the large rice paddy that stretched over the massive yard in back of his house, extending to the tree line of the surrounding forest, Kris and Ethan noticed a tall, lanky man was waving them over from inside the wooden enclosure.  

“Good morning,” Elm said, smiling as they approached. He nodded at Kris, and added, “Good to see you’re feeling better today.”

Elm, from what Kris had gathered in the short amount of time she knew him, was a strange, eccentric man. He was also not one to let physical barriers stop him from doing what he loved. In the case of his leg, Elm, despite being crippled, often could be found romping around in his yard, interacting with his pokémon. This was much to the dismay and annoyance of his hired hand, Raiden. But, as far as Kris could tell, Raiden hated anything fun. More power to Elm if he would rather spend his time outside than being confound to his bed.

At the moment, the pokémon expert was leaning heavily on a cane, most of his weight distributed to his right leg. His left was wound tightly with crisp, white bandages. Faintly, Kris made out the outline of a brace wrapped to the man’s leg, keeping the limb straight and secure.

“Thank you,” she said, with a small, half-hearted smile.

“From what I understand,” Elm began. “Yesterday’s events were most unpleasant for you.”

“They were.”

“I thought so,” Elm said. “I have yet to go to the square, Raiden is most insistent that I stay here, but I’ve heard it is nearly in shambles.”

“Something like that…” Kris said, her voice trailing off.

“It’s really bad,” Ethan said, jumping into the conversation. “The houndoom nearly burned down all of the buildings there.”

“Really?” Elm asked. “I bet it’s a mess.”

In the corner of Kris’s vision, she saw two small pokémon chase each other into view. They were running around in the grass beside Elm, yipping and crying out in excitement. One, a chikorita, hopped directly into the pokémon expert’s free arm, snuggling up to him almost immediately. Elm instantly began stroking it, eliciting soft purrs from deep within the pokémon’s pale green throat.

The remaining pokémon, a cyndaquil, stared up expectantly at the tall man. It could not jump as high as its friend, and, therefore, could not receive the same amount of affection. This was quickly remedied by Ethan, who had crossed over the fence, and gathered the small fire-type into his arms.

“Hey Cyndaquil,” he cooed. “How are you today?”

In response, Cyndaquil nuzzled Ethan’s chest with its thin snout.

Kris stepped forward, over the boundary, and stood beside her friend, gazing down at the cyndaquil in his arms. It was no secret that Cyndaquil was Ethan’s most favorite pokémon out of the ones that Elm owned. He doted on the small fire-type, cuddling it and carrying it and playing with it whenever he got the chance.

“Where’s Totodile?” Ethan asked after looking around and not finding the water-type anywhere.

“Oh it’s around here somewhere,” Elm said. “Totodile is a rambunctious one. It’s always running off on its own. It’ll show up eventually.”

Ethan nodded, a faint smile dancing on his lips.

“So, what do you have in store for us today?” Kris asked. “Do you want us to head out to pick some berries or…?”

“Hmm,” Elm began, thoughtfully. “I suppose you two could go help Raiden with the rice stalks. He’s out in the paddy. I think you two know where the baskets can be found.”

With that, Kris and Ethan soon found themselves standing in the middle of a paddy field, their ankles submerged in the water used to flood the land to grow the rice. Baskets were secured tightly at their waists, and Ethan, like Raiden, had tied a sedge hat to his head. Kris, on the other hand, had adamantly refused to wear such distasteful headgear.

“It makes me look like a farmer,” she had told Ethan.

“That’s the point. You’re supposed to be a farmer,” he had said.

Speaking of farmers, Raiden, the teenaged hired hand, was quietly and diligently gathering rice stalks. Though he stood near Kris and Ethan, it was clear he wanted to create some sort of distance between them. When the two younger teens had approached, Raiden had barely acknowledged their presence, even when Ethan had greeted him in his usual enthusiastic way.

Raiden did not like them, Kris had figured. He didn’t like anyone. He was very serious, and stony-faced. Whenever he shot them a look, probably to convey his annoyance, his face always remained indifferent and humorless. As far as Kris could tell, emotion was something he was not familiar with. From what she knew about the hired hand, Raiden was not one to over-emote. The muscles on his face, as she had theorized once, didn’t work as well as the average person. Since Raiden never used them, his facial muscles never got a chance to develop. Therefore, Raiden’s face was permanently stuck in a neutral position that only occasionally teetered when he was annoyed or slightly amused. From the way he carried himself, however, she would not even guess that he was merely fourteen. There was an air of maturity to him that was also very intimidating. 

Appearance wise, his hair was brown, and it hung quite low on his face, all the way to his shoulders. However, this was rarely ever seen by Kris or Ethan, as the young man always kept his hair secured up in a small knot, and under the same old sedge hat he liked to wear.

Beside her, Ethan was humming a soft tune as he was bent over, gathering rice stalks in his gloved hand.

Kris set about doing the same thing, sighing heavily as she bent down, her hands diving into the water, searching for a stalk. The thing about rice farming Kris detested was that it was time-consuming labor, and it also left her back aching, often for many hours afterwards. She also hated having to stick her hand in the murky water. Along with being disgusting, Kris was fearful something was lurking beneath the surface. It was only ankle-deep, but she still remained cautious. Small pokémon could be swimming past her feet, slithering through the water around her.

And, as if on cue, Kris suddenly felt something wrap around her ankle, squeezing her boot tightly as it worked to secure itself. She jumped into the air in terror and surprise almost immediately. Letting out a short, high-pitched shriek, Kris began staggering backwards, tramping some of the stalks as she worked to get whatever had bound itself to her leg off.

Ethan stared at her in shock, his eyes wide in bewilderment.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “What happened?”

“There’s something on my foot!” she screamed.

Ethan stepped toward her, and reached down into the water, his hand taking ahold of her ankle. Carefully, she felt him peel something off of her boot, bringing it out of the water for her to see.

It was just a pokémon. A tiny, blue, ball-shaped pokémon.

Internally, she was screaming in anger.

Externally, she groaned.

“Congratulations,” she heard Raiden deadpan from behind her. “You managed to survive an azurill attack.”

Kris threw him an irritated look from over her shoulder.

“Azurill,” Ethan said, grinning and ignoring the exchange that took place before him. Bringing the tiny water-type to his chest to cradle it, he tickled its small face with his finger. “When did its egg hatch?”

Raiden stared at him for a long while, his brown eyes boring into Ethan’s soul. And then, he said, “Last night.”

Ethan turned his attention back to the baby pokémon, seemingly satisfied with that answer. Though, he could have just figured he wouldn’t be getting any more information out of the older boy. Raiden often gave as little word as possible whenever either Kris or Ethan asked him something.

In Ethan’s arms, Azurill was squealing in delight. “Don’t worry, Kris,” he said. “Azurill are harmless. This one probably wanted to play with you.”

“Uh huh,” she skeptically agreed.

“Azurill are far from harmless,” Raiden said, flatly. “They’re vicious, terrible beasts that can slay dragons with just one hit.”

Kris glared at him. “That’s not funny.”

Raiden cocked one of his eyebrows up, seemingly amused. And then, just as easily, he turned away, gathering his basket and moving further into the paddy field to resume his work. Less of a distraction with them being farther away from him, Kris assumed.

Rolling her eyes, Kris moved back to look at Ethan. He was still cuddling the azurill, and it seemed to be enjoying the affection.

“We should get working again,” she suggested.

“All right,” he said. He moved to set Azurill down, but, as soon as he did, the tiny water-type began squeaking in protest. Smiling, Ethan shook his head, and then placed the blue pokémon on his shoulder. “You can stay there if you want to, but no messing around. Okay?”

Azurill squealed in joy, hopping up and down excitedly on Ethan’s shoulder.

For the next few hours, Kris and Ethan spent their time plucking and gathering rice stalks, dumping them into their baskets. They made their way up and down the paddy field, working sedulously, and, in Ethan’s case, quickly. He tried to get Kris to race him, and, for a while, she had indulged him in his game. But, after she began to feel the effects of the sun as it beamed down on her, warming her hair, and making her face burn hot, Kris conceded, and went back to her slow and steady pace. It was in this moment that she cursed herself for refusing to wear a sedge hat.

Now, the two friends were nearing the edge of the paddy, nearly nineteen meters away from the tree line of the surrounding forest, and Kris was starting to get anxious as they approached the end of their day’s work.

The stalks of rice in this section of the paddy field looked overgrown and uncared for, as if hardly anyone ever went over this far. It was very odd, but Kris chose to ignore it anyhow.

With a bundle of rice stalks in her gloved fist, Kris wiped the back of her hand to her forehead, hoping to remove some of the sweat that had gathered there. As she stood, panting from the heat, her hands on her hips, she slowly became aware of the sudden presence that had emerged near her feet in the water. At first, she took it to be a stalk of rice, pressing against her boot, so she stepped away. When the feeling persisted, and increased, Kris knitted her brows together, wondering if it was Azurill again. Only, when she checked back on Ethan to see if the tiny pokémon was gone, she was surprised to see that it was still there, resting on his shoulder.

Just as her eyes began to narrow, she felt something wrap tightly around both of her ankles, abruptly yanking her forward, knocking her onto her back. Immediately, she started screaming. Her body was dragged through the paddy field, her back, arms, and legs slamming into the many stalks of rice planted there. The basket at her side was soon detached from her waist, and left somewhere behind her. Vaguely, she heard Ethan calling for her, shouting for her.

Kris reached her fingers out, trying to find something to anchor her down with. The rice stalks that she had hoped to grab proved useless. Most of them slipped through her fingers, scrapping her gloves. The ones she managed to get ahold of came out of the ground as soon as her hands closed around them.

The vice-like grip around her ankles seemed to only get tighter. As Kris was pulled forward, her screams still ringing from her lips, she got a mouthful of water. Murky and disgusting water. She could not see what had taken ahold of her. Her head was thrown back, and she could not find the strength to raise it.

Soon, she was aware that she was being pulled toward the forest. The tree line was rapidly approaching, and Kris felt fearful, her screams morphing into cries for help. _All is lost_ , she thought. _All is lost_.

Then, Raiden appeared in her path. Braced for impact, his teeth gritted together, Raiden spread his arms out to receive her. At the rate she was going, she knew she would slam into him. Kris shut her eyes tight, preparing for the worst. When they collided, she felt his entire weight ram into her, knocking the air out of her lungs. She snapped her eyes open wide, and found that Raiden was on his knees, the toes of his boots digging into the ground as he held her in place. He was sitting on top of her, pressing her down, a look of fierce determination on his face. Even still, Kris continued to be pulled forward. With the extra weight, however, the yanking had slowed almost to a stop. There was more pressure around her ankles though. Whatever had seized her was struggling to reel her in, its grip tighter and firmer than before.

Holding Kris steady, Raiden reached back into his boot and pulled out a knife. He held it up with his left hand, and then snaked it forward, taking something into his fist. As Kris craned her neck to see, she realized it was an arm. A long, blue arm with red fingertips that had stretched beneath the water and grabbed her, hoping to pull her into the forest.

It looked to be made out of vines.

Raiden brought the knife down on the vine-like arm, severing it, and cutting one of Kris’s ankles loose. Quickly, he did the same with the other one, and soon enough, she was free. Together, Kris and Raiden fell back into the water as the strain vanished, the two of them soaked after being tugged through the paddy field.

Somewhere in the forest nearby, a loud cry was heard, and a swarm of pidgey and spearow flew off in alarm. The quick and startled flurry of wings didn’t bode well for Kris, who was panting heavily, her breath labored. 

“W-what was―?”

Her voice was soon cut off by the abrupt appearance of a large pokémon with a jet black body that was wrapped in a jungle of blue vines. Its eyes were white, soulless, and saucer-like, peeking out from between the vines hanging over its face. It was so incredibly big, even from where Kris was cowering, flat on her ass in the water.

She clung to Raiden’s shirt sleeve. “What the fuck is that?”

“A tangrowth!” Ethan supplied as he dashed up to them. “Holy miltank!”

Holy miltank was right.

The tangrowth, the evolved form of tangela, was standing at the edge of the forest, just outside of the boundaries to Elm’s property. Standing at about 190 centimeters tall, the tangrowth easily towered over Ethan and Raiden. From the look on its face, Kris could see it was thoroughly pissed off. Its eyes were flashing in anger, but that was probably because its arms had been hacked off. It didn’t seem to matter, however. Within mere seconds, its vine-like limbs had grown back, and were sent flying toward Kris and Raiden at lightning speed.

Almost as quick, possibly quicker, Raiden yanked Kris up and out of the way, the two of them tumbling to the side as they dodged the vines.

“Get up,” he ordered her. “Hurry.”

Kris did not need to be told twice. She was on her feet in an instant. Swiftly, Raiden rose beside her, his knife brandished in his hand. He stepped back carefully, and urged her to do the same. They were to move away as gently and as calmly as possible. Kris supposed the older boy didn’t want to provoke the tangrowth any further.

Behind her, Ethan was waiting, watching in disbelief and amazement. Perhaps he did not see the real danger in the situation. Kris wished she could be as calm and collected as him. At the moment, she was trembling. From being drenched or from fear of the humongous pokémon, she wasn’t sure. It was probably a mixture of both.

“We’re going to head back to the house,” Raiden said, his voice low as he addressed Kris and Ethan. “Once there’s enough distance between us and the tangrowth, I want you two to start running as fast as you can. Do not run in a straight line if you know what’s good for you.”

Swallowing heavily, Kris nodded.

Back up ahead, the tangrowth had yet to make another move. It still remained just outside of the tree line, its white eyes observing them intensely and angrily, its vine-like arms hanging in front of it, ready to lunge.

And lunge it did.

Kris did not know what she did to enrage the tangrowth so much, but, for some reason, it decided to go after her once again. The vines wrapped around her ankles, and she was thrown on her back.

Raiden started running up to catch her again, but the tangrowth was yanking her toward it with immense strength and speed. There was no way he would reach her in time. She wasn’t very heavy in terms of weight. The tangrowth did not need to exert much energy in reeling her in. Frightened, Kris tried squeezing her eyes shut, screams clawing at her throat like a sneasel as they crawled from her mouth. It proved too difficult, however. No matter how scared she was, her eyes refused to close. She was petrified.

As she neared it, the tangrowth extended its mouth, a gaping pit wide enough to swallow her whole waiting for her. Kris swore she could see the Distortion World right then and there. Her fingers dug into the ground as she continued forward, hoping to find purchase. A futile effort. All she ended up with was a hand full of mud.

Ethan was screaming and shouting for her somewhere in the background. And, for a moment, time seemed to slow down. This was it. Her life was over. Swallowed whole by a fucking pokémon. What a horrible way to go. The damn thing was hungry. It was fucking _hungry._ Why in the name of Arceus was it after _her?_ Kris hadn’t done anything remotely wrong. She hadn’t provoked it. Fuck, she hadn’t even seen the damn thing before today. Was it because she was lighter than the rest? Was she just so easy? So prey-like? She knew nothing about tangrowth or the eating habits of pokémon in general. But, for the most part, she had assumed they were all herbivores. Never once had it occurred to her that they could be carnivorous, never mind capable of eating a human being. A carnivorous grass-type. How odd.

And then, a column of fire blasted through the air in front of her, the heat warming Kris’s face, nearly scorching her. Alarmed, the tangrowth bellowed, loud and ear-splitting, causing Kris’s head to pound. It had not relinquished its grip on her ankles, but she did feel herself slow down.

The tangrowth swung its massive body around, searching for the source of the fire. All too soon, it was met with an onslaught of flames, the fire blasting it in the face. Letting off another bellow, this time sounding more pained than surprised, the tangrowth released Kris’s ankles and brought its arms up to defend itself.

“What―?”

The question Kris had barely started to ask was immediately answered with the appearance of a quadrupedal pokémon as it leapt from the forest, planting itself in front of her. With teeth bared, and eyes flashing in determination and possessiveness, a lone houndour growled lowly at the enormous grass-type looming before it.

“Woah!” Ethan exclaimed as he ran up beside her. “It’s a houndour.”

Raiden reached her at about the same time, his hands curling under her armpits as he hauled her to her feet. She moved toward Ethan, gripping his forearm in fear, and for partial support.

“A houndour?” she asked, confused. “What’s a houndour doing here?”

It did not seem to matter at that exact moment, as it was the only thing that was standing between the three youths and the behemoth before them.

The houndour glanced behind it once, as if to check on Kris. Then, turning back around, it growled and barked twice, as if meaning to challenge the tangrowth. The larger pokémon did not seem fazed in the slightest, despite being blasted in the face earlier. In a flash, it made to attack the dark-type pokémon. It proved to be a poor mistake, as the houndour was quick to react, letting loose another flamethrower attack, and lighting the tangrowth on fire.

It cried out in pain and agony as its body reacted to the flames, the fire growing larger and larger as it consumed the tangrowth whole.

Before Kris and the two boys, the houndour barked again, its nostrils flaring as it waited for the large grass-type to make a move. Surprisingly, it didn’t. The tangrowth must’ve known it was beaten, and, as the flames started to tamper off, the behemoth retreated back into the forest.

When it was gone, a thick blanket of silence hung in the air around them. Kris, Ethan, Raiden were all stunned, astonished, rendered mute. Wary looks were exchanged between Kris and Ethan as they wondered where the houndour came from, and who it belonged to.

Separately, Kris wondered why it had come to help her. Had it been ordered to?

Eyeing it carefully, she gazed up into the forest, and tried her voice, but it was hoarse from all of the screaming she had done.

“Whoever owns this houndour,” she managed. “Thank you!”

No reply came, and Kris shot Ethan another uneasy glance. They waited for a while, and yet, no one ever emerged from the tree line to claim their pokémon. It was all very, very strange.

Ethan moved to go touch it, and when his hand came near its body, the canine pokémon shrank away from him. Instead, it swiveled its head in Kris’s direction, and broke out into a gallop, hopping onto her and tackling her to the ground. She yelped in surprise and frustration as she splashed in the water for what felt like the millionth time. The dark-type didn’t seem to mind, and yipped in pleasure before nuzzling its nose against her hand, as if it wanted her to pet it.

“Is that your pokémon?” Raiden asked, a deep scowl cut into his face.

Kris’s hair was wet and heavy and probably full of nasty things, but she pushed it out of her face regardless, huffing in annoyance. She gazed down at the houndour sitting on top of her, charily staring into its dark eyes. It was eyeing her with intense interest, its face surprisingly gentle despite being such a mean and scary looking pokémon.  

“No,” she said. “No it’s not.”

* * *

 

 

“Tangrowth are territorial,” Elm said, as he applied healing balm to Kris’s ankles. “They generally like to live alone, especially where there are a lot of trees around.”

“I didn’t even know tangrowth lived in Johto,” Ethan said, eyeing his friend as the pokémon expert began wrapping her feet with bandages.

“You don’t see many around here, that’s true,” Elm said. “But, remember, pokémon, even wild ones, evolve. Chances are a tangela evolved, and decided to claim the forest around my house as its own. Either that or some trainer from Sinnoh abandoned it here.”

“I think I’ll stick with your first suggestion,” Ethan said.

“Kris,” Elm said, turning his attention on her. “You’re awfully quiet. Don’t have anything to say?”

Kris was frowning deeply, her eyes focused intensely on the bandages now wound around her ankles. She didn’t think it was _that_ necessary for her to wear bandages, but Elm had insisted. When they got back to the house, he was quick to fuss over her, removing her boots to examine her ankles and feet, assessing the deep red and purple marks that had formed on her skin shortly after being squeezed so damn tightly.

With a wool blanket draped over her thin frame, Kris blinked once, twice, thrice before meeting Elm’s gaze. She pulled the blanket closer to her body, and said, “I don’t understand why it went after me.”

“Well,” Elm began. “From what I understand, you and Ethan had ventured pretty far from the house. I know I didn’t tell you this, and, in retrospect, I probably should’ve said something, but that part of the paddy you two were in had been more or less abandoned. It’s too far for me to get to, so I just left it alone, hoping the stalks over there would die off.”

“But, they weren’t dead,” Kris said. “That’s why we went over there.”

Elm rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, his face becoming flushed in embarrassment.

“There’s your mistake,” Raiden deadpanned. He was sitting in the corner of the room on a small stool, his sedge hat lying in his lap as he dried his damp hair. “No wonder the tangrowth attacked you. You two idiots encroached on its territory.”

Kris’s mouth dropped, and her eyes narrowed. _Fucking asshole,_ she thought.

“We didn’t know,” Ethan said, defensively.

“It does make sense,” Elm said, thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t put it pass a pokémon as large as a tangrowth to lay claim over there; it’s quite near the forest, as you know. As humans, we only eat the seeds of the rice stalks, but a tangrowth, or perhaps any other grass-type, may find the rest of the plant nutritious. If that were its feeding grounds, it must’ve been quite alarmed to have discovered trespassers there.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” Kris said.

“The tangrowth felt threatened, Kris,” Ethan explained. “So it attacked you.”

“It looked like it wanted to eat me.”

“It’s possible it did,” Elm said. “Most pokémon are omnivores, and there are a few known to prey on humans. But, I will admit I am not too familiar with tangrowth. My expertise only extends as far as pokémon native to Kanto-Johto. However, it may be very likely the tangrowth did intend to eat you. I wonder how that would’ve felt. Probably akin to an arbok swallowing a rattata whole. Nasty, nasty business.”

“But, you’re safe now,” Ethan said, reaching out to pat Kris reassuringly. “Thanks to Houndour.”

Kris forced a smile onto her face, and her eyes shifted over to where the houndour was lying, stretched out over the floorboards by her feet, its head resting on its paws. Houndour had followed her into the house, and has since remained vigilant at her side. Kris wasn’t sure what it wanted with her, but, for the time being, it was staying as close to her as possible.

“Yes. Thanks to your houndour,” Elm agreed.

“It’s not mine,” Kris was quick to say.

Elm furrowed his brows. “Are you sure?”

Kris nodded.

“It seems to have taken quite a liking to you,” the man remarked. “If it’s not yours, whose is it?”

“That’s what we were wondering ourselves,” Ethan admitted. He moved from his position beside Kris to the floor, where he reached out to stroke the dark-type pokémon gently.

When Ethan touched it, the houndour did not react positively or negatively, rather, it remained indifferent to the boy’s hand as it ran up and down its back. He continued to pet the canine pokémon for a while, seemingly deep in thought. Kris watched on in silence, her eyes locked on her friend as he tenderly rubbed the dark-type. He was so good with pokémon. So kind. So affectionate.

“Arceus!” Ethan suddenly exclaimed. He whipped his head around, his eyes humongous as he met Kris’s gaze. “It’s the houndour from yesterday!”

Kris scrunched her eyebrows together, thinking back. “What?” she asked. “The houndour from yesterday? Do you mean the one that belonged to that…blonde woman?”

“Cassidy,” he told her, and the houndour’s ears perked up at the name, its head tilting slightly.

“Right…”

“What are you two going on about?” Elm asked.

“This houndour... he belongs to one of the people who had come down in that air-balloon yesterday,” Ethan said. “Cassidy was her name.”

A smile tugged at Ethan’s lips as the memory of the blonde woman materialized in his mind, and Kris frowned deeply. She rolled her eyes, and stared at the houndour at her feet.

“Well then,” she began. “Why the fuck isn’t it with her now?”

“ _He,_ ” Ethan corrected. “He must’ve been left behind. Right, Sundance?”

The houndour’s ears became fully erect, and its tail began to thump hard against the floorboards.

Grinning ear-to-ear, Ethan went to rub its head.

“I bet you’re hungry,” he said, his voice becoming low-pitched. “You’ve been an entire day without food, huh? You miss her, right? You miss Cassidy?”

Sundance the houndour yipped once in agreement, and Kris found herself shaking her head in disbelief. There was no way that the houndour could possibly understand what Ethan was saying. It probably just heard the name of its whore master and started wagging its damn tail around.

“She’s probably looking for it then,” Kris said. “She’s going to come back.”

“I don’t think so,” Ethan said with a frown. “The villagers basically ran her and Tyson out of town. I doubt she’ll come back. The tauros killed all six of their houndoom.”

“And, why not this one?” she asked. “Why didn’t they kill _Sundance_?”

The name felt bitter in her mouth. What a stupid name for a pokémon. Who in their right mind names a pokémon, _a houndour,_ Sundance? Kris could understand giving that name to a grass-type like a bellossom or roselia. But, a houndour? _Really?_

“He must’ve been frightened and ran off,” Ethan said. “They probably couldn’t find him.”

“We should take it to the square then,” Kris said. “The others will know what to do with it.”

“No,” Ethan said, harshly. He moved his hand down and placed it on Sundance’s neck, holding it still. There was a hint of possessiveness in his voice. “No, Kris. Do you know what they would do to him?”

Kris, with her face hard and rigid, did not relent under his stare. She remained firm and unyielding, and dead set on getting rid of _it._

“I have a pretty good idea.”

“And you still want to give him up?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It’s not mine, Ethan. It’s not yours either.”

“He saved your life,” he reminded her.

Kris closed her eyes, and sighed heavily. He was right. It had saved her life.

Still, the villagers would never let them wander around town with a houndour. Especially one that belonged to a murderer. Kris hoped Ethan could understand that. It would not be right for them to keep the murderous pokémon. It wouldn’t.

“Enough quarrelling,” Raiden said, standing just then. He placed his sedge hat back onto his head, and glared at the two youths in front of him before rounding on Kris. “You’d honestly let those village-idiots kill this pokémon? Are you really that hateful?”

Kris’s mouth opened and then closed like a magikarp. Around the room, Kris saw that four sets of eyes were trained on her, waiting for her response. She could not meet Ethan’s. His grey eyes would be full of disbelief, of disappointment. Maybe even disgust. He seemed to be already in love with the pokémon, and he barely even knew it! It was not fair that Raiden was accusing her of being hateful. She wasn’t hateful. She just didn’t want _it._ And, besides, they did not know for sure if the villagers would kill it.

Similarly, she could not bring herself to look at the dark-type pokémon. She knew it would be pleading with her. She just knew it. Its eyes would be all wide and round and sad, seemingly begging her to change her mind.

Internally, she groaned.

Externally, she opened her mouth, sighing again, readying herself for a reply. Only, it never came. Before she could so much as utter a word, a loud thud and a crash was heard coming from the adjacent room.

Raiden was on his feet instantly, hurrying to the next room. He flung the door open and disappeared inside. Elm made to follow him, but thought better of it once Raiden returned almost immediately, a solemn look on his face. In his left hand, he was holding just two pokéballs.

“What happened?” Elm asked.

Raiden tossed up the two pokéballs, releasing Cyndaquil and Chikorita. They more or less seemed confused to be out, the two of them appearing a bit groggy and sluggish. They must’ve been napping.

“Where’s Totodile?” Elm asked, his eyes widening.

“I couldn’t find its pokéball,” Raiden told him, grimly.

Elm pushed himself to his feet, his cane wobbling as he forced his weight onto it. He hobbled forward as quickly as he could muster.

“You didn’t look hard enough,” he said. “Totodile! Totodile!”

Kris and Ethan followed the pokémon expert into the next room, only to see that it was completely in disarray. A single chair had been knocked over, and the drawers to Elm’s big walnut wood desk were left open. Parchment papers were strewn all over the floor, flying around the room as the wind blew in from the wide window. Someone had broken in. The latch of the window shade was completely broken, and the screen looked as if someone had slashed it open. 

Elm was hobbling over to his desk, searching for something frantically. He eventually found what he was looking for in the form of a small ornate box. He threw open the lid, and glanced inside. It was the box he stored the pokéballs belonging to his cyndaquil, chikorita, and totodile.

There was nothing inside.

“Totodile is gone,” Raiden said.

“No,” Elm said, gasping. “This can’t be true. Who would do this? Who would steal Totodile?”

Sundance, who had trailed after Kris when she had entered the room, inched forward, its nose twitching as it sniffed the air. Then, as if following a scent, it trotted over to the window, where it stood on its hind legs, and took something into its mouth. When it dropped back to its feet, it hurried over to Kris and placed a piece of cloth before her.

At the sight of the slobber, she cringed in disgust.

Ethan kneeled down and picked it up, eyeing the fabric curiously. “What did you bring us, Sundance?” he asked.

Sundance barked twice, and pawed at the floor, its nails scraping against the floorboards.

“What is it?” Elm asked, stepping toward them with his cane.

Ethan turned the fabric over in his hand. “I’m not too sure,” he admitted.

“It belonged to the thief,” Raiden said, flatly. Three sets of eyes turned on him, and he stepped forward, snatching the cloth from Ethan’s fingers. “This was ripped from his clothes.”

* * *

 

Kris could not exactly say her ankles hurt, but she could admit to feeling some sort of discomfort. As she walked, she tried to apply as little pressure as possible to her feet. There was pain, but she prayed it would soon subside. Otherwise, this trip would be a nightmare.

_Stupid tangrowth. Stupid fucking tangrowth and its stupid fucking vines_ , she thought.

She huffed in annoyance, tugging at the straps of her satchel. Walking along beside her was Ethan. He was sporting a wide grin, and his eyes were focused on the single pokéball cupped in his hands.

“I want you to take Cyndaquil,” Elm had said. “You will encounter many, many dangerous things while out on the road, but with a pokémon, I know you will at least have a chance to defend yourselves. Take Cyndaquil. It will protect you from harm.”

“We’ll find your totodile, Elm,” Ethan had said. “I promise you. We will find Totodile.”

Kris sighed heavily. Dumb luck. It was absolute dumb luck that she was roped into going on Elm’s quest for his stolen pokémon. She had not wanted to go. Honest. Going on the quest, tracking the thief down, it would require her to leave the safety of New Bark Town. And, although she could admit New Bark Town was not the greatest or friendliest place in the world, it sure beat whatever was waiting for her out _there._ But, like usual, Ethan had insisted she go. He had _begged_ her to come along. His stupid grey eyes had gotten all wide and round and she just couldn’t say no. It was the adventure he had always wanted. Of course he would want her to come along.

Besides, it was not like Elm could go himself. His leg was broken. There was no way he would be able to chase after a thief. That was why he kept his chikorita instead of giving it to Kris or Raiden, who had been sent along with them as a guardian. Chikorita would protect and keep him company just as Raiden would protect Kris and Ethan.

“You two are young,” Elm had said. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you two got hurt.”

“We have Cyndaquil,” Kris had argued. “And Sundance. We don’t need a nursemaid.”

Even despite her complaints, in the end, Raiden still came along with them.

Now, the stoic boy was walking ahead of Kris and Ethan, silent and cheerless as ever. The pack he had over his shoulders was noticeably smaller than Kris or Ethan’s. He must’ve packed light. Perhaps he figured they would find the thief before the day’s end.

Kris hoped that too.

On the other side of Kris was Sundance the houndour. It had since stopped sniffing the ground, and was trotting along merrily. All Kris could do was stare at it, completely disturbed. It was a strange pokémon. For a dark-type, it was awfully happy. She’d figured it would be gloomy and a bit standoffish, not all giddy and overjoyed. What a weird creature.

Sundance, as Elm had suggested, would be utilized to track down the thief. It had a strong sense of smell, and, as Ethan was quick to remind them, was an excellent tracker. Cassidy had said so herself. Kris had rolled her eyes again at that, but, even still, she could not deny what she saw with her own eyes. Sundance _was_ a good tracker. With the piece of fabric that had been torn from the thief’s clothes, the dark-type had sprinted forward, down the road leading west out of New Bark Town. Kris had wondered if it had run off for good, and was silently rejoicing. But, when they had gone after it, she discovered the houndour was patiently waiting for them to catch up to it.

“I can’t wait to see Cherrygrove City,” Ethan gushed. “I bet it’s huge.”

“It’s not,” Raiden said without turning around. “It’s barely larger than New Bark Town.”

Kris and Ethan exchanged a glance before staring after Raiden’s back.

“How would you know?” Ethan asked, curiously. “Have you been there before?”

“Yes.”

“What’s it like?”

“Like New Bark Town,” Raiden said. “With less wind and more flowers.”

“There’s supposed to be a huge marketplace over there,” Kris said. “The whole city is just teeming with vendors, and people who are looking to make quick coin with their useless dross.”

“Cherrygrove City is the principal location for commerce and trade in East Johto,” Raiden said. “The city is small, but it’s packed tight with people.”

“No wonder the thief ran off there,” Kris said.

“Why?” Ethan asked.

“It would be easier to get lost in the crowds there,” she told him. “I’m sure it’s like a sanctuary for thieves coming in from Kanto.”

“It must be a dangerous place,” he remarked.

“Not as dangerous as the city-states, or so I’ve heard,” she said. “Especially Goldenrod. Getting lost there, I don’t even want to think about it.”

Ethan rolled the pokéball over in his hands, his finger tapping on the small sphere. “You won’t get lost,” he assured her. “Besides, I doubt we’d even get that far.”

The two of them went silent for a while, both seemingly deep in thought. Ethan went back to observing his pokéball, and Kris let her mind wander.

The road out of New Bark Town, the _only_ road out of New Bark Town, led west. The villagers were some of the few people to frequent the footpath, but, on occasions, travelers coming in from Cherrygrove City could be found walking along them as well. However, at the moment, no one else was around besides Kris and her traveling companions. And, unfortunately, that beast of a houndour, Sundance.

For the most part, it seemed to know where to take them, leading them westward with unparalleled confidence. The houndour didn’t run away, rather, it stayed put beside them. Kris supposed they were moving at a relatively steady pace, but she could be wrong. She wondered if it would be better if they ran. She did not know about trackers, but she could only assume it would have been more ideal if the pokémon who was doing the tracking was running after their target. But, from the look of it, Sundance didn’t seem to mind walking.

They continued on for about another hour, and Kris soon found her stomach growling. It was not deafeningly loud, but the sound was noticeable, especially to Ethan, who laughed at how embarrassed she became because of it.

Sheepishly, she reached back into her satchel, attempting to pull out the loaf of bread Elm had insisted she take. Her hand got caught inside of the bag, and her arm ended up twisted up at an uncomfortable angle. Ethan snickered at her expense, but moved to help her. Reaching his hand into her pack, he dug around, searching for the bread. Kris felt his hand on her back through the thin material, and she shivered at the contact, a sudden jolt of electricity shooting up her spine. 

“We should stop here,” Raiden said suddenly, throwing a look over his shoulder at the two younger teens.

“Why?” Ethan asked, finally finding the bread, and handing it to Kris. “What’s wrong?”

“Aren’t you hungry?” Raiden asked.

“Sort of.”

“Then, we’ll rest,” the older boy said.

“We don’t need to stop and eat,” Kris said, squeezing the loaf of bread in her hand tightly. “We’re not children. We can eat and walk at the same time.”

Raiden arched one of his brows, his face neutral otherwise. “The road to Cherrygrove City is long,” he said, flatly. “It’s about a day’s journey to get there.”

“So?” Kris asked.

“We don’t need to rush if we’re not going to get there until tomorrow morning anyway,” he said.

“But, the thief might get away,” Ethan said.

“If we have that houndour,” Raiden said, nodding at Sundance. “He won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?” Ethan asked.

“You said it yourself that it was an excellent tracker,” the older boy reminded him. “Were you lying?”

“No...”

“There’s no need to worry then,” Raiden said. He stared at them for a long while, gauging their reaction to his words. Then, he added, offhandedly, “If you are so worried about catching the thief in time, you could’ve brought that tauros of yours along with us.”

Ethan’s cheeks burned bright red, and he laughed awkwardly. “I told you,” he said. “My mom needs Tauros. I couldn’t leave her all alone. She depends on him.”

Raiden hummed thoughtfully before heading over to a tree, and slumping down against it. He reached into his small pack and brought out an apple, taking a large bite out of it.

_I guess that’s that,_ Kris thought.

Blowing her fringe out of her face in exasperation, she dropped down to a lush, green patch of grass and sat, cross-legged with the loaf of bread still held firm in her hands. When Ethan plopped down beside her, she broke the loaf in half and offered him a piece. He took it eagerly, scarfing it down like he’d never seen food in his life before.

The look he gave her when he saw that she was staring, his eyes wide, cheeks full, mouth agape and pulled into a slanted guilty smile, brought a small grin to Kris’s face. He was like a little boy.

In that moment, Kris didn’t think anything could dampen her mood. That was until Sundance nuzzled up beside her, its snout rubbing against her arm as it tried to crawl into her lap. Kris lifted her arm up, holding her piece of bread out of reach. There was no way she would let _it_ eat her food.

Sundance didn’t seem to mind the obstacle. It worked its way into her lap, and then stood on its hind legs, its front paws pressing down on Kris’s chest as it struggled for the bread. Kris was not ready for the weight of the houndour, and fell backwards. Sundance quickly hopped off of her, and dashed over to her hands, where it began to wrestle for her bread.

Kris gave up struggling for her food once Sundance’s snout made contact with it. She adamantly refused to eat something _it_ touched.

The houndour tore into the bread like there was no tomorrow.

“Great,” she muttered.

Ethan chuckled, and then reached into his satchel. He brought out a small pouch. It was filled with berries.

“Here,” he said, offering Kris the pouch.

She took it, and began munching on the various berries found inside. Her bites were harsh and short, and she had a deep frown cut into her face. As generous as Ethan was, she was still furious about her food being stolen. By a stupid houndour of all things.

Smiling brightly, Ethan leaned back in the grass, lying with his arms under his head, his eyes fixed up on the sky.

As she ate, Kris watched her friend for a while. They were barely out of New Bark Town, but she knew he was already enjoying himself. This was what he always wanted to do, what he always hoped for. A quest. A journey. He had wanted to go on an adventure. And, Elm had granted it to him.

He looked so happy, and Kris couldn’t help but smile.

Then, Sundance began pawing at her, probably begging for more food. Kris turned her head to glare at it. Only, when she did, she noticed Sundance was not the only one focused on her. Raiden, from his position on the ground, had trained his eyes on her. The apple he had been eating was reduced now to a core, and he held it between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it slightly.

When Kris met his gaze, she narrowed her eyes to slits, and pursed her lips.

In response, Raiden pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes, and leaned further back against the tree trunk. Even with the shadow that darkened the upper portion of his face, Kris could see he was wearing that same expressionless look as always.

_What the fuck is wrong with him?_ she thought.

The day stretched on, and the three youths continued forward to Cherrygrove City. The trek was long, and a bit unbearable. Kris couldn’t remember a time in her life when she had to walk so much. The pain in her ankles had yet to subside, and she was suddenly aware that it had started to throb.

When the sun began to set on the horizon, and Raiden said they would be stopping for the night, Kris all but threw herself onto her bedroll, snuggling up inside, and tugging the quilted fabric up to her neck. She removed her boots, and tossed them out onto the ground beside her satchel. Finally, she was relieved of the stress on her feet.

Ethan placed his bedroll close to hers, sitting down cross-legged. In his arms was his cyndaquil. Sometime during the walk, he had released it, seeing if it wanted to accompany him. Cyndaquil had, at first, walked side-by-side with Ethan. But, when its little legs got too tired, Ethan had to carry it. It worked out for the both of them, as Ethan spent the rest of the journey cooing over the fire-type cradled in his arms.

“It’s time to go to sleep, Cyndaquil,” Ethan said, stroking the small fire-type’s back.

Cyndaquil squealed once, but remained compliant as Ethan returned it to its pokéball.

Kris glanced over at Sundance, who was sniffing her satchel and boots. The damn thing didn’t have a pokéball, so it would remain out in the open with them for the night. Kris had half a mind to swat it away, but she knew it was integral in their plan to track down the person who stole Totodile. And, she knew Ethan would give her that same disappointed and disbelieving look if she did. She just _knew_ it.

Kris might not have liked the quadrupedal pokémon, but Ethan sure did. He doted on the thing, much like he did with all the pokémon he encountered. It did not help that he seemed to have been utterly fascinated, and enamored with its owner. He probably wanted to make sure the houndour stayed safe and comfortable. If Sundance liked him, then surely it would make _Cassidy_ like him. As if that made any sense. Kris internally rolled her eyes at the thought. The woman was a killer. She and her partner had come down from the sky with a reign of terror. Why Ethan thought she was beautiful was beyond Kris. Murderers are not beautiful.

For the most part, Sundance liked him well enough. But, for some odd reason, the dark-type liked Kris way more. There was some sort of obsession the stupid beast had with her, and for reasons she could not understand, the houndour was completely adamant in remaining by her side, like a guardian.

Speaking of Sundance, the dark-type had soon taken notice of Kris, abandoning her boots and satchel in favor of the soft bedroll in front of it. The houndour climbed on top of her, and slumped onto her legs, curling up on itself. Kris groaned in irritation and began shifting around in her bedroll to get comfortable. She tried to shake the pokémon off, but it wouldn’t budge. It was going to sleep on her.

_Wonderful,_ she thought.

Wiggling into his bedroll, Ethan propped himself up on his elbow, so he was looking at Kris.

“It’s be a long day. Are you as exhausted as I am?” he asked.

“Completely,” she said, pulling her arms out from inside of her bedroll.

Her friend flopped onto his back, and tugged his blanket up to his chin. He had a smile on his face. “Two pokémon in one day,” he said in wonder.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “But, the houndour doesn’t belong to us. Remember that Ethan.”

“I know, I know,” he said, dismissively.

“Just making sure.”

“Raiden,” Ethan called suddenly, garnering the older boy’s attention.

Raiden had removed his sedge hat, and was propped up against a nearby tree, the lower portion of his body tucked into his bedroll. His arms were folded across his chest, and his eyes were closed. He looked to be sleeping.

“Yes?” Raiden asked without opening his eyes.

“Why don’t you come over here with us?” Ethan asked. “You don’t have to sleep so far away.”

“I’m not going to go to sleep,” he said.

“Huh?” Ethan asked, scrunching his brows together.

“I’m not going to go to sleep,” Raiden said again. He sighed, and then added, “I don’t sleep well. Never managed to get more than four hours a night anyway.”

“That’s sounds awful,” Ethan said, frowning.

Raiden shrugged.

“Go to sleep,” he said. “I’ll watch over you.”

Ethan mumbled something that sounded like ‘all right,’ before snuggling deeper into his bedroll. He drifted off some minutes later, as his breathing slowed to a soft and even rhythmic pace.

Kris couldn’t say the same for herself. Sundance, who had fallen asleep moments before, was snoring. It was not constant, but, every so often, the sound would become loud, and Kris would be startled out of her lull.

Sighing heavily through her nostrils, Kris jabbed Sundance with her finger to get it to shut up. All her poking ended up doing, however, was get the houndour to shift around a bit, one of its paws pressing down on Kris’s hand, stopping her from agitating it further.

The motion was odd to Kris. The houndour was a stupid beast, but she could admit it had its moments or two. Or three. Or four…

Even still, Kris did not pull her hand away. Sundance’s fur was surprisingly soft, and its paw was warm against her skin. As Kris let the steady sound the breaths of her companions made wash over her, she suddenly found her lids get heavier and heavier. The snoring of the dark-type sleeping on top of her slowly began to fade, and the last sensation she felt before going under was Sundance’s light touch, the pads on its paws tender, making her feel secure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Pokémon are akin to wild animals. In this story, as you’ve already figured out, the pokémon are a bit more dangerous than in say, the anime. Animals especially the wild ones will attack if they feel they themselves, their young, or their territory is threatened, and, often, they will fight to kill. Others will work to find food. Obviously pokémon eating pokémon is something that is never addressed, but, like I said before, they are supposed to be similar to animals. And, animals tend to eat one another. They can also eat humans. It’s rare, but it does happen.
> 
> Another thing I should mention is that I figured pokémon battles are done for fun, or at least in good nature. The trainers obviously don’t want to kill the other trainer’s pokémon. However, as presented in the story, pokémon can kill another, especially at the will of their trainer. There are good and bad people in the world. I want that to carry over to this fic. I hope this doesn’t deter anyone from reading. 
> 
> As always, thank you for checking out this story. Feel free to leave a comment, letting me know what you think.


	4. SILVER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is the final point-of-view character for this story. I didn’t want to overwhelm anyone with having too many characters narrating, so I settled on only four. They are all integral to the plot in some way, shape, or form, so please don’t discredit any of them. Though, I am curious to know who is the most interesting to read. Lance, I know, did not have much action in his chapter. He was unfortunately stuck with the exposition, but, next chapter, I can assure you there will be something major…
> 
> The start of this chapter takes place at about the same time, maybe a little before the end of the last chapter. 
> 
> Without further ado, I present the next chapter.

Totodile was a useless pokémon.

Silver glared at the ridiculous creature in front of him, beyond irritated with its performance. He had half a mind to kick it, really. But, that would be counterintuitive at most. He needed the stupid thing, whether he liked it or not. How else was he going to catch stronger pokémon? Or get to Goldenrod unscathed? He needed something to protect him on his travels. If his pokémon hated him, there would be no way it would listen to him. And Silver did not want to have to deal with that.

Even still, Silver found his new pokémon to be incredibly and terribly weak. It only knew two moves: leer and scratch. Not even fucking water gun. The thing was useless.

_I should have gone for the chikorita or the cyndaquil,_ he thought.

Around him, the citizens of Cherrygrove City were hustling and bustling despite the setting sun on the horizon. Perhaps they cared not for the time of day. The gradually darkening sky was alive with various shades of orange, painted in indigo, streaked with yellow. There was a flurry of activity that almost seemed unnatural, especially for the evening. Merchants and vendors and other scum littered the streets, hollering something that was undiscernible to Silver. Men and women on their daily market spree crowded around the various stalls, examining what the sellers had to offer.

Silver’s stomach growled as he looked on. He was hungry, seeing as though he had not had a proper meal in quite some time. His mouth began to water.

Turning to his totodile, he sneered, and asked, “Will you be able to manage this simple task?”

Totodile nodded quickly, its eyes locked up on its new master, eager to attend to his wishes.

“Good,” Silver said. Pointing over at an older woman selling bread and other baked goods, he added, “See that old bitch? I want you to create a diversion somewhere near her, to draw her away. I do not care what you do, use scratch or leer or something. It does not matter. I just need something to distract her while I get us some food. Do you understand?”

Totodile nodded again, gazing out at the baker woman its master was indicating to.

“What the fuck are you waiting for?” Silver snapped, after Totodile did not move. “Go!”

On his word, the totodile scampered off, crawling under stalls and avoiding as many people it could manage. Silver watched his pokémon for a while before marching forward himself. Keeping a casual demeanor, he glanced over at some of what the vendors were putting forth, attempting to appear interested. He kept his hand on his pocket, as if to look like he had money at his disposal.

From the corner of his eye, Silver saw Totodile nearing the baker woman. He grinned, moving closer to his destination as well. When he finally reached the old bitch’s stall, he inhaled deeply, the smell causing him to begin salivating again.

The woman regarded him, as he was just standing there. A lone thirteen-year old boy. Least to say, he must have looked suspicious.

“Whatcha doin’, boy?” she drawled with a heavy Johto intonation.

Silver sneered in disgust as her Johto accent scarped against his eardrums like small daggers cutting into skin. It was true that Cherrygrove City was the second town to be encountered if taking the road out of Kanto, but with that in mind, one would believe their accents would be as muted as the one found in New Bark Town. There, they had a blended form of the two regions. It was not the most pleasant thing to listen to, but it was tolerable. But here, in Cherrygrove City, the common cadence was arguably the worst thing Silver had ever heard. Granted, he was only speaking to plain folk, but still. There was yet another thing Silver had to hate about Johto.

“I am merely looking,” he said.

“Where’re yer parents, boy?”

“Not here.”

“You shouldn’t be out ‘ere then,” she said. “It’s dangerous fer little boys to be out by themselves, ‘specially after dark.”

Silver bristled at her words. He was not a little boy. He may be small, but he was _not_ a little boy.

In the corner of Silver’s eyes, he noticed his totodile was watching an old frail man lead a tauros-drawn cart forward. The old man and the tauros where steadily approaching, through the crowd, near the stall and the baker woman. They did not seem to see Totodile, and Silver smirked, knowing exactly what it was about to do.

Smoothing his features, he leaned toward the fat woman, pressing his palm down on a loaf of bread. She took notice of the action, and scowled, unsure of what to make of it.

“I am looking to buy some bread, you old bitch,” he said, curling his fingers around the loaf. It was not warm, but it would do. “If you cannot provide that for me, then I will be on my way.”

The woman’s eyebrows skyrocketed, and she lunged forward, hoping to seize Silver by the collar of his tunic. But, just as she did, a loud bellow was heard, and suddenly, people were crying out in surprise.

Something had startled the tauros, who was now bucking, trying to shake off the cart that was tied to it. The frail old man was attempting to soothe his pokémon, but it was a fruitless effort. Once a tauros became frightened, it would be on an inconsolable rampage until it tired out, or until it was returned. The latter did not seem like it would happen, as the old man would have to first detach the cart from his pokémon to return it to its pokéball.  

The men and women around the bovine pokémon were backing away, steering clear of the tauros in fear of being struck. It was kicking its hooves into the air, bellowing and grunting loudly.

The baker woman had turned her attention to see what was happening, giving Silver an opportunity to slip away. He swiped the loaf of bread off of the stall counter, and stuffed it under his tunic, breaking out into a run. He was an agile and quick boy. Slipping in and out, weaving back and forth, it was easy for him to make his way as far from the old crone as possible. Before long, he was on the other side of the marketplace, far from the baker’s stall. It looked like he would be making a clean getaway.

That was until he heard a loud and thunderous voice echo throughout the market, forcing him to skid to an abrupt stop.

“Whose totodile is this?”

“Fuck,” he muttered.

Silver turned his head back to where he saw a man with a protruding belly holding Totodile up in the air for all to see. His fingers were pinched around the nape of Totodile’s neck, and he was eyeing the crowd with a stern expression, daring someone to step up and claim their pokémon.

Silver had half a mind to abandon the water-type. It looked pathetic up there, dangling from the man’s fingers, not even trying to fight back.

Scowling, Silver tried to make eye contact with his totodile. If it struggled loose, he would not have to cause a scene in trying to retrieve it. Otherwise, he would be forced to take action.

Even still, Silver seriously considered turning around and leaving. He had his bread, and he had a diversion. If he left now, no one would be after him. Sure, his work in acquiring Totodile would have been in vain; breaking into that skinny farmer’s house was not particularly difficult, but spending much of the day hiding out and waiting for the perfect opportunity to snag one of his pokémon had been lengthy, and dull.

He would just have to find another pokémon. It wouldn’t even be hard. The people of Johto were bumbling idiots. Peasants, farmers, yokels. Silver knew for a fact he was the most intelligent person in the entirety of Cherrygrove City. All he would have to do would be to seek out a pokémon worth snagging, and he would be golden. Breaking in, taking the pokémon, he did not have to worry much about that. Locks were easy to pick. Windows were easy to break through.

Stealing another pokémon would be so simple.

Only, Silver knew that if he did go forth in stealing a new pokémon, he would be set back even further than he already was. He already had Roketto-Dan agents on his ass, chasing him down to the ends of the earth. The reason why was beyond Silver, but he figured it had something to do with his father. That’s all it ever was. His father.

If he hung around any longer than absolutely necessary, searching for a new pokémon, the distance he had hoped to create between him and the Rockets would close. They would find him instantaneously.

He could not afford to lose any more time.

Silver exhaled heavily through his nostrils, and slipped his way back into the mass of people surrounding Totodile and the man with the protruding belly.

“Whose totodile is this?” the man asked again, shaking the water-type once to emphasize his point.

Totodile was completely submissive in the man’s grasp. Its eyes were downcast, and it showed no hint of irritation in being held so roughly. Silver grinded his teeth together, thoroughly annoyed. For about the millionth time, he regretted his decision in choosing the water-type over the other two. Of course he ended up stealing the weak, submissive pokémon. Of course he did.

Glancing about the crowd, Silver searched for a possible distraction. He needed to figure out a way to retrieve his pokémon without attracting too much attention. He could not pull the same trick twice. The frail old man’s tauros had since calmed down, and was being lead from the market. There would no longer be any rampaging pokémon to garner the crowd’s attention.

Silver swept his dark eyes around him, scanning for an opening. He could go for a more direct approach, and snatch Totodile out of the man’s hand. He would have to hightail it, but Silver was positive he could outrun the yokel if he so much as tried to chase after him.

“Hey!”

A large hand clamped down on Silver’s shoulder, spinning him sharply. Immediately, he went on the defensive. With a sneer on his face, teeth bared, and fists balled up, ready to strike, Silver prepared himself for a fight. He did not like being touched. And, he did not like physical contact, especially of belligerent nature. A fight was about to break out if whoever had grabbed Silver did not let go.

“You didn’t pay fer that!”

It was the baker woman.

_Fuck,_ Silver thought.

He tried to shake the bitch off, but her grip was tight, iron-like. Her fingers dug into his shoulder, and he winced slightly, wondering where all of that strength came from. Her nails felt like daggers. Small, tiny daggers. Silver squirmed in her grasp.

The baker woman noticed Silver was cradling something under his tunic, and shoved her hand up, fingers reaching for the stolen loaf of bread.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Silver shouted. “Let go of me, bitch!”

The baker woman stilled her motions, and stared down at him, a dark look on her face. Around them, people began to gawk and whisper.

It was an incriminating sight. The old woman had her hand up a young boy’s shirt, and he was screaming for her to stop touching him. Small wonder the townspeople began eyeing the scene before them with suspicion and disgust.

“What’s going on over ‘ere?” the man with the protruding belly asked as he approached. His hand was still clenched around Totodile, whose eyes lit up at the sight of its master. “What’re you doing, Osmati?”

“This boy’s a thief,” Osmati said as she yanked the loaf of bread from out underneath Silver’s tunic. “He was tryin’ to steal from me.”

The man with the protruding belly eyed the loaf for a second, and then he turned his stern expression on Silver. “A thief, huh?”

Silver glared up at the man looming in front of him. He would not back down. He would not relent. Whoever the man was, or thought he was, Silver was not going to bow down to him. He would not admit to anything.

Sliding his eyes over to where Totodile hung, Silver made sure to keep his facial expression neutral. He was not going to allow any hint of recognition slip onto his face. He was already in a tight spot. He did not need to pin himself down even further by giving indication that he knew the totodile who had caused such a large commotion only minutes prior.

The man with the protruding belly leaned close to Silver, so that their eyes were level, and asked, “You know what happens when you’re caught stealing, don’t cha?”  

Silver continued to glare at the man, and then struggled a bit under Osmati’s iron grip. She had not let go of his shoulder, and her talon-like nails were digging even deeper into his skin.

“He asked you a question, boy,” Osmati growled, jerking Silver slightly.

“No,” he spat. “I don’t know.”

The man raised one of his eyebrows, but looked otherwise unimpressed. “Flagellation,” he said. “Do you know what that means?”

Silver internally rolled his eyes. If the man was meaning to scare him, he had to try a lot harder. He already knew what happened to petty thieves. His entire existence up until three years ago had revolved around theft, and other illicit activities. His father had attempted to groom him into that lifestyle, despite Silver’s severe disinterest, and general discontentment with the whole business. But, even as he had complained, and actively sought to reject the ideals of his father and the Roketto-Dan, Silver learned much about what went on in the underworld of Kanto-Johto. He also was familiar with what happened to those in the Roketto-Dan who were caught. Flagellation was not the worst of punishments. There were much more unpleasant things than being flogged in the middle of a town’s square.

Even still, Silver had no desire to be beaten senseless.

Eyeing Totodile, the water-type’s neck still clutched tightly in the man’s hand, and then becoming aware of the pokéball clipped to his belt, Silver slowly crept his fingers towards it, and said, “No.”

“It means yer gonna be whipped,” Osmati told him. “Thieves get whipped. And, yer gonna―!”

Silver pulled his elbow back sharply and slammed it into the baker woman’s belly with as much force as he could muster, causing her to grunt in pain. She relinquished her grip on his shoulder in favor of clutching her stomach, giving Silver the opportunity to move freely. With his hand around his pokéball, he recalled Totodile, and offered the man with the protruding belly a smirk before ripping the loaf of bread out of Osmati’s hands and dashing off.

As he ran, slipping in between the townsfolk, Silver could hear shouts rising somewhere behind him. He did not need to turn around to see that he was being chased.

Through the mass of people, Silver moved as quickly and as agilely as possible. He had not meant to cause a commotion. The whole ordeal was supposed to be a grab-and-go. Totodile was supposed to divert the baker woman’s attention, and he was supposed to snatch some bread. Getting caught, that had not been a part of the plan. Silver made a note for next time to go in with a bit more caution. He had not foreseen any complications arising from his plan initially. However, he had failed to factor in Totodile, and the possibility of it being discovered and caught.

The distance Silver made from him and the angry mob approaching from behind was relatively substantial. Though, he knew if he continued through the marketplace, he would eventually be met with a dead end, or the Cherrygrove City watch. It was very likely the fat man alerted them, and, therefore, Silver knew he could not continue that way. As he hurried along, he caught sight of a skinny alleyway. It was partially blocked off by a stall, but Silver found it as the only viable option for his escape.

Turning, Silver rushed over to the alleyway’s entrance, and squeezed past the stall. The vendor was busy attending to a customer, so there were no looks of confusion thrown his way.

As he stepped into the alley, Silver had to turn his body sideways to slip through. It was a tight fit, but he was thin enough. Shimmying through the two closely-set buildings took time, but Silver had the patience. His pursuers would not think to follow him through here. He was in the clear.

Once he emerged through the other side, Silver gazed around him, checking to see if anyone was near. For the most part, the cobblestoned streets were empty. There were a few people here and there, milling about, but, aside from them, Silver was alone.

He breathed a sigh of relief, and straightened his clothes out before continuing.

Stuffing Totodile’s pokéball into his pocket, Silver yawned, and then brought the loaf of bread he had stolen up to his face for assessment. If it was not warm before, it was now. The loaf had been gripped tight in his hand as he fled from the market. No doubt it was also partially damp from the clamminess of his palm. But, he could hardly complain. The entire loaf was still intact, and in relatively good shape. For stolen food, the bread was better than anything Silver could have asked for.

Silver tore a sizable portion of the bread off, and stuffed it into his pocket. He then began nibbling on the remaining piece, hoping it would be enough to satisfy his hunger for the time being.

The sun was lower in the sky now, and the darkness of the night was slowly beginning to stretch over the city. Despite it being summer, Silver tugged his haori closer to his body for warmth. There was a slight breeze in the air, but it felt much colder than that to Silver.

Walking along, he eventually found himself at a harbor. As he stepped onto the dock, he saw that there were a few boats tied down to the pier. Waves were rolling in from the west, crashing onto the shore and splashing water onto the marina.

Silver gazed out, watching as the sun began to dip on the horizon. The lanterns that lined the streets, and hung from the surrounding buildings, were shining brightly now as the daylight faded.

“Do these boats go out to Goldenrod?” he wondered.

“Not normally.”

Silver startled, and whipped around to see a man was staring back at him. He wore a wide smile, despite his lack of front teeth, and had a tanned face. In his hands, he held a bucket. Silver could not see what was inside of it, but he could only guess it had something to do with fishing. The toothless man looked to be a fisherman. Perhaps the bucket held bait.

“Not normally,” Silver repeated. “What does that mean?”

The toothless man shrugged. “It means what it means,” he said. “These boats are fer fishing. We don’t normally go out too far. Only to about the waters near Azalea. And, even then, we don’t get too close to there. They ain’t got a dock.”

“You said they don’t normally go out to Goldenrod,” Silver pointed out. “Are you suggesting that they might?”

The fisherman shrugged again, and said, “Depends. What fer?”

“I am trying to head over there as quickly as possible,” Silver explained.

“The road outta Cherrygrove City leads to Violet,” the fisherman said. “From there, if you go west, and then south, you can find yer way to Goldenrod.”

“I know that,” Silver snapped. He then paused, thinking better of his tone, and said, in a much gentler voice, “I just don’t want to have to walk all that way. It would be most ideal to travel by sea, if it can be helped.”

_And, the Rockets wouldn’t think to look for me out at sea,_ he thought.

“Where’re you from, boy?” the fisherman asked, his eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. “You don’t sound like yer from around ‘ere.”

Bristling, Silver worked to contain himself. He was not about to willingly lend out information as to who he was or where he was from. However, Silver knew that if he remained standoffish toward the fisherman, any chances he had in being granted passage onto his boat would be gone. The man seemed mildly interested in what Silver was saying. The words ‘not normally’ offered him a beacon of hope. ‘Not normally’ meant the fisherman was at least considering the idea of boating over to Goldenrod. And, Silver needed to get to Goldenrod. He _needed_ to.

“Kanto,” Silver told him. “I’m from Kanto.”

“Kanto?” the fisherman asked, mildly surprised. He then nodded, and said, “Yep, I can definitely hear some Kanto in you.”

Silver was almost certain the man was not complimenting him, but he thanked him anyway. He was not used to being polite, but, if he learned anything from his father, it was to at least be kind to people. Just, not in the normal sense.

Kindness was a weapon to be wielded. A tool much like everything else.

Kindness lowered people’s defenses. It buttered them up. It made them less suspicious and more trusting. It was through being nice and kind and heartfelt that a person could draw out favors from others.

His father knew of the ways a person could be easily manipulated. Telling them what they wanted to hear, offering them compliments and praise, but only enough so that they’re hooked, it was the one thing Silver could admit he listened to him about.

And, it was about to be put to work.

“So,” Silver began. “Do you know of anyone who would be willing to boat out to Goldenrod?”

The fisherman laughed suddenly, and it was the most irritating of things. With his mouth wide open, and his toothless grin out for display, the fisherman’s laughter rang out from the harbor, echoing through the empty streets. Silver, along with being slightly miffed, was also confused. He did not find what he had asked to be remotely funny. Even so, he offered the man a polite, thin-lipped smile as he waited for him to stop.

“Do I?” the fisherman asked, still chuckling. “’Course not. No one in their right mind would boat out that far. At least not from Cherrygrove City.”

Silver narrowed his eyes, thoroughly fed up with the conversation, and turned on his heel to leave.

“Wait a moment, Kanto!” the fisherman called.

Silver threw the man a look over his shoulder, and gazed back at him. “What?”

“No one in their right mind would boat out to Goldenrod,” he said again. “That’s too far a journey fer anyone. However, boatin’ over to Azalea, that’s somethin’ I can do. At least fer you.”

“Azalea?” Silver asked, turning to face the man again. “I thought you said they don’t have a port over there.”

“They don’t, but I could get close to the shore. The city-state’s a little ways inland,” the fisherman told him. “You’d have to walk quite a bit, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Silver considered the man’s offer for a moment. It was not the most ideal thing, heading over to Azalea, but it was better than nothing. He did not want to have to walk all the way to Goldenrod. He had been traveling on foot since he left Viridian about a few weeks ago. The Rockets have been chasing him ever since. If taking a boat over to Azalea was the only option available, then Silver would gladly accept the fisherman’s offer. Losing the Rockets to the sea, that would put less strain on him.

“Yeah, okay,” Silver said.

“Really?” the fisherman sounded surprised.

Silver nodded. “It’s better than nothing.”

“All right, then,” he said. “I won’t bother askin’ you ‘bout why you need to get over to Goldenrod, but, if you’re serious ‘bout comin’ along, I’m boatin’ out tomorrow mornin’.”

“I’ll be here.”

“Bright and early,” the fisherman said with a smile. “I’ll see you then, Kanto.”

“My name’s not Kanto,” Silver said, frowning.

“I know,” the fisherman said, mirth shining in his eyes. “I never asked you fer yer name.”

* * *

 

 

There was no moonlight shining in from the hole in the roof, so Silver found himself sitting cross-legged in complete darkness.

As his eyes worked to adjust, Silver sighed heavily, a shaky breath escaping his chapped lips. They had found him, the townsfolk. After he had left the harbor, he had prowled through the streets as quietly and as inconspicuously as possible. He did not think the people from the market would still be out looking for him, but, when he had turned a corner―a wrong one at that―he was spotted, and then pursued. He got away, obviously, but it was not as easy to lose his chasers as it was the first time. There had been hardly any people out, and so Silver could not have used their bodies as blockades or obstacles in his escape.

He had had to climb up onto a rooftop to evade them, which had not been particularly difficult; he was used to scaling roofs and buildings, but doing it in the dark, where he could not see, proved to be easier said than done.

Now, Silver found sanctuary in the attic of a house that fortunately had a hole in its roof. The hole was not gapingly large, but, with enough shimmying and squeezing, Silver had slipped in as lithely as a persian.

When his eyes finally adjusted to the pitch blackness of the attic, Silver reached for the pokéball clipped to his belt, and released it.

Emerging in a white ray of light, Totodile began clamoring in gratitude and excitement over being released.

Silver pocketed the pokéball, and scowled at the water-type, hoping it could see his facial expression in the dark. It was a predator, so he did not think it would have any trouble in seeing him.

“Shut up,” he hissed, his voice low. “There are people sleeping down there. You have to be quiet.”

Totodile stopped the little dance it was doing before Silver, and gazed up at him subserviently.

Silver rolled his eyes, and said, “I don’t know why you are so happy. I nearly got fucking whipped today because of you.”

The totodile stared down at its feet in shame, causing Silver to roll his eyes again. The pokémon was so submissive that it was actually getting beyond pathetic.

“Next time,” he began, sharply. “I’m going to leave you there. You had one fucking job. _One._ And, you fucked it up.”

The bipedal water-type’s eyes still remained fixed on its feet as it let its master’s words wash over it.

As Silver continued to glare at his pokémon, he noticed that its small body was shaking and trembling, wracked with sobs. Silver begrudgingly realized that Totodile was crying.

Groaning, Silver lied down on his back against the dusty floorboards, and put his arm over his eyes. He did not want to see it cry. If he watched it any further, he knew his temper would get the better of him, and he would end up doing something he would later regret, like yell at it, which would, again, be counterintuitive. Not only would it probably cause Totodile to start crying more, but it would also alert the occupants of the house to go up to the attic to see what was making all that racket.

“Crying is for the weak, Silver,” his father had told him after he had been caught sobbing once. “Swallow your tears unless you wish to be perceived as feeble. Only cowards weep, for they have much to be shameful about.”

Despite what he had said, Silver had continued to cry, resulting in his father’s disapproving look, and abrupt departure from his side. Furthermore, Silver was left to his own devices for the next two weeks; his father refused to speak to him, to engage him in any form of contact or conversation. It was not until Silver learned he had been wrong to weep that he was granted some attention from his father.

It was a tough lesson to learn, but he got it all the same.

Silver had only been seven.

“Crying is for the weak,” he heard himself say.

Totodile was not sobbing loudly, but even from where Silver was lying, he could hear it was whimpering. The sound alone was forlorn enough for Silver to think better of disciplining his pokémon. Yes, it had made a mistake. It had gotten caught. But, at the moment, Silver was fine. He did not have deep lashes cut into his back, or he was not locked in the stocks. Granted, it had been through his cunning that he had managed to get himself out of the predicament in the first place. However, in the end, he did have the bread. And, that was all because of what Totodile had done initially when it had frightened that tauros.

Sighing heavily, Silver dug his free hand into his pocket, and brought out the portion of bread he had stowed away earlier. Then, he sat up and offered it to his pokémon.

“Take this,” he said.

Totodile gazed up at its master for a moment, unsure of what to make of his sudden change of tone. When Silver shook the bread once in his hand impatiently, however, the water-type inched its way forward, taking the piece into its hands.

Silver lowered himself back to the floor, and turned on his back, so he was facing away from his totodile.

As Silver stared off at the wall, the sound of soft chewing reaching his ears from behind him, his mind began to wander, and he moved his hand toward the inner pocket of his haori. There, he dipped his fingers inside until he found what he was looking for. A folded up piece of parchment. A letter.

Tugging the letter out, Silver did not unfold it. Rather, he held it tight in his hand, and pulled it close to his chest, closing his eyes.

He did not need to open the letter to know what it said. He knew exactly what it said. He knew exactly what the handwriting looked like. Who it was written by. Who it was addressed to. He had spent the last few weeks looking it over and over and over again. Reading and rereading it. He memorized every line. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

Silver hugged the letter, thinking of what waited for him in Goldenrod.

His mother.

The woman who had given him up. Not because she did not want him, but because she could no longer care for him.

She had raised him by herself, with partial help from her ailing father. But, according to the words written on the piece of parchment that was clutched to Silver’s chest, his mother could not care for them both. She had a duty to her father. And, Silver still had Giovanni. So, she had sent him back to Viridian to be raised.

For much of his life, Silver had wondered who his mother was. He did not remember his mother, but, if he thought hard enough, he could vaguely recall feeling some sort of comfort, some sort of belonging in the earlier months of his existence. When he pictured his mother, he imagined her with a bright, kind smile. A pretty face and gentle eyes.

After his father fled three years ago, Silver knew he could also no longer remain in Viridian Castle. The imperial court had order the city watch to search and seize any and all personnel found inside. Silver had fled from his home, too. On his way out, he had happened to run into Lord Samejima.

“Father!” he had shouted. “You’re running away? You said you were the strongest in the whole world! And now, you’re just going to give up?”

“It’s over,” his father had growled. “I’ve lost. It is only a matter of time before the imperial court finds me.”

“So, you’re just going to abandon the Rockets?” Silver had demanded. “You’re going to abandon those people? All of those people who pledged their loyalty to you?”

“You cannot move forward if you are unable to accept defeat,” Lord Giovanni had told him. “I know when I am beaten. The future of the Roketto-Dan, it is nonexistent for the time being. The imperial court will arrest and hang every Rocket they find. It is an inevitability. And, I can do nothing but save myself.”

“You preached about loyalty and strength in numbers!” Silver had shouted. “What changed?”

“It is true I said those things,” his father had agreed. “In time, those ideals will come to pass. However, I must be alone now in order for me to create an even stronger organization.”

“That does not even make any sense!” Silver had cried.

“Gathering a large number of people to work together will create a great source of strength,” his father had explained. “The imperial court is cracking down on any and all Roketto-Dan personnel. All bases, all hideouts are being infiltrated even as we speak.”

“You’re letting them die!”

“The weak will die,” Lord Giovanni had corrected. “They will be weeded out. They will be the ones who give in to their torturers. The strong, the intelligent, they will be the ones who escape. They will be the ones who will survive. The revived Roketto-Dan will be stronger for it.”

“I don’t understand!” Silver had cried. “I don’t understand what you’re saying!”

“One day you will.”

“I don’t want to understand!” Silver had shouted. “I don’t want to be anything like you! You think you’re all high and mighty but you’re weak! You’re a coward! I will never be like you!”

That was the last time he ever saw his father.

From then on, Silver had lived his life on the run. He hung around Kanto for a long while, moving from city-state to city-state when it suited him. Then, a few weeks ago, Silver had decided to return to Viridian, to see if the castle was still abandoned.

He had snuck inside, and found the place as empty as it had been when he left. Furniture had been overturned, but, for the most part, everything was unchanged.

That was when he found the letter.

Silver figured the city watch, and those who had been sent by the imperial court, had scoured the entirety of the castle for anything that may lead them to Lord Giovanni. Only, Silver was positive they found nothing. His father had a secret room, accessible through the library of all places. The room had been left untouched, surprisingly, and so Silver had no problem entering through the secret passageway. His father’s hidden room contained only one thing: a desk. But, it had been in this desk that Silver found the letter his mother had sent to his father.

And, that was how he ended up where he was today. Entering into Johto, trying to get to Goldenrod, running from the Rockets who had somehow managed to spot him while he had been in Viridian Castle.

Silver had been running for weeks, but he knew in the end, it would all be worth it.

His mother did not know he was coming. She did not even know he knew she existed. But, he knew, he just knew that once she saw him, she was be overjoyed. She would be happy. So happy to see her son. Silver was older now. He could care for himself. She would not have to worry.

Soon, Silver felt himself beginning to drift off. The letter in his hand was still clutched tightly to his chest, as the thoughts and promises of seeing his mother began to overtake him.

His mother.

She was waiting for him in Goldenrod.

“Soon,” he whispered. “I will find you soon.”

* * *

 

 

Silver woke up just before the dawn.

His back was aching, and there was a thin layer of dust that clung to the back of his clothes. Sleeping on the floor was not the most ideal of places, but it was better than nothing. He had a roof over his head. Literally.

As Silver stood, and stretched his neck and back, a cacophony of sharp pops coming from his joints assaulted his ears.

Over by the wall, Silver spotted his totodile still sleeping. It was curled up in a small ball, its tail wound tight around itself. He did not bother to wake it up, and, instead, returned it to its pokéball. It could continue to sleep in there. And, Totodile would be more useful tucked away than out in the open. Silver could conjure up about a million different ways the bipedal pokémon could potentially screw up his morning plans.

Stepping up onto a small ledge, and then hoisting his body upwards, Silver worked to pull himself out through the hole in the roof. His arms were thin, and he knew he looked scrawny, but he had some strength. He could hoist himself up.

Now on the roof, Silver stood and watched over the entirety of Cherrygrove City. From where he was, positioned above it all, Silver strangely felt powerful. It was as if he was looking over a kingdom. _His_ kingdom. All those who were traversing the streets so early this morning were like his subjects. Up on the roof, where no one could touch him, he felt limitless.

Silver gazed at the sun as it started to slowly rise in the east. Then, he turned his attention on the harbor. It was not too far from where he was. The walk over to the shore would be short. Shorter if he ran.

The toothless fisherman had told him to come bright and early. And, it was rather early. Silver hoped the man was up already. Otherwise, if he made his way over to the docks, and found he was not there waiting for him, he would be forced to stand out in the open for all to see. Standing in one place for too long, all vulnerable, was not something Silver liked to do. It gave anyone who was pursuing him the opportunity to close in. Not only was he trying to evade the Roketto-Dan, but he was also trying to avoid being spotted by the townsfolk. No doubt the Cherrygrove City watch was looking for him.

Silver worried more about the townspeople finding him than he did for the Rockets.

At least for the Roketto-Dan, he would be able to see them coming. Most of their traveling was done by air-balloon. If they appeared anywhere in the sky, Silver would at least know to run.

The townsfolk, on the other hand, could come out from anywhere.

Silver decided he would stick to the rooftops for as long as he could.

Swiftly, Silver broke into a run, his eyes locked on the house nearest to him. As he neared the edge of the roof he was currently on, he threw his body forward, leaping through the air, and landing as softly as he could muster on the neighboring house’s roof.

The sound his feet made when he hit the roof tiles was loud, but not so much that it would cause anyone to turn and look in his direction.

He sighed, and then started off for the next roof.

Agilely and lithely, Silver leapt from rooftop to rooftop. For the most part, Cherrygrove City was still dead. There were people milling about in the cobblestoned streets below, but not enough for Silver to worry about. Chances were those people were just vendors heading off to the market to set up their stalls.

Soon enough, Silver was close to the harbor.

The fresh smell of the sea and salt was oddly satisfying to Silver. There was a reminiscent aroma that wafted through the air, carried by the early summer morning breeze. Silver had not spent much time in Johto, and, he had not ever really gone to see the sea, but, he could only assume what he was being reminded of was the smell of the ocean near Goldenrod. It had to be.

Carefully, Silver lowered himself down from the rooftop he was currently standing on. He would have to walk the rest of the way to the harbor, as there were no buildings close enough to the docks for him to jump up on to.

As he made his way forward, Silver heard the distinct sound of a pokémon barking somewhere in the distance. It made him frown, for there was a familiarity to the barking he could not quite place. Even still, he continued walking toward the harbor.

As he did, however, he noticed that the barking seemed to be getting louder and more near. He froze suddenly.

_It’s a growlithe,_ he thought.

It had to be.

In his experience with the many city watches he had encountered in his lifetime, Silver knew that they at least owned one or two growlithe. Sometimes even an arcanine.

If the barking he heard belonged to a growlithe, he would have to get away as soon as possible.

Silver turned on his heel, only to be met with the image of a houndour. It was barking away like there was no tomorrow, and Silver narrowed his eyes, unsure of what to make of it. It was not a growlithe. But, even still, his guard was raised.

And, it had every right to be.

Just then, three people started running toward him. Of the three, Silver recognized two of them. The girl and one of the boys.

_It’s those fuckers from the woods,_ he thought.

Silver thought about running, but the houndour before him had its teeth bared, and he feared he would be bitten if he so much as attempted to run. Instead, Silver braced himself for their arrival, his hand at his belt, fingers curled around Totodile’s pokéball.

A boy, one he did not recognize, came to a stop in front of him first. He was quicker than the other two, and Silver wondered if he should even refer to him as a boy. He looked to be a young man, and much of his face was shielded by one of those stupid rice farmer’s hats.

Behind him, the girl and the boy from the woods outside of New Bark Town appeared. They were more out of breath than the older boy.

“Sundance,” the girl said, gasping. “Heel.”

Instantly, the houndour obeyed. Sundance, as Silver figured it was called, backed away slowly from Silver, but still kept a watchful eye over him, in case he did something it did not like, like try to flee.

Silver glared at the three youths in front of him, his whole body rigid and on edge as he readied himself for an attack.

The girl turned then to the boy from the woods, and said, “Ethan, it’s him.”

Ethan nodded, and said, “I know.” Then, addressing Silver, he said, “We know you were the one who stole Elm’s totodile. We’re here to get it back, so, if you would, hand us the pokéball.” 

“Yeah, no,” Silver said. “That’s not going to happen.”

Ethan eyed his companions, as if looking for some sort of confirmation. “Fine,” he told him. “We’ll battle for it. If I win, you give me Totodile’s pokéball. If I lose, then you can go free. Sounds fair enough, right?”

“Ethan!” the girl cried. “What are you doing?”

“Relax, Kris,” he assured her. “I got this.”

Silver narrowed his eyes. The boy obviously did not know what he was getting himself into. Though, there was something oddly confident in the way Ethan spoke that Silver did not like. If the kid thought he was strong, he had another thing coming. Similarly, Silver wondered if the boy thought he would not dare to accept the challenge.

“No, you don’t,” Kris said, frowning. “Ethan, I don’t think it’s a good idea to battle for Totodile.”

“But, it is,” Ethan argued. “Pokémon battles are how all disputes are settled.”

Kris shook her head. “You might be right about that,” she began. “But, this is not one of those times. Let Raiden get it.”

Raiden, the boy with the rice hat, looked on with mild interest. His eyes drifted back and forth between his two companions, until he finally said, “It’s Ethan’s fight. It’s his quest. If he wants to battle, then let him battle.”

“You’re not helping,” Kris told Raiden, her voice sharp.

Silver rolled his eyes, and then unclipped the pokéball from his belt. He tossed it up into the air once and caught it, making sure the three youths were watching him closely.

“I accept your battle,” Silver finally said. “But, you’re not going to stand a chance against me.”

Silver released Totodile, sending the water-type out before him, and pocketed the pokéball.

Ethan gritted his teeth, but, other than that, he did not seem too fazed by Silver’s insult. The black-haired youth reached into his pack and pulled out a pokéball of his own. Then, he flung it forward.

“Cyndaquil!” he shouted as the small fire-type landed in front of him.

In the corner of his eye, Silver saw Kris and Raiden step back so they were out of the way. The houndour of theirs too inched backwards to give both Silver and Ethan room.

Smirking, Silver turned his attention to Ethan and his cyndaquil. “Got that from Elm, huh?” he asked. “That pokémon’s too good for a wimp like you.”

Ethan ignored him again. “We fight until one of the pokémon faint,” he said. “Or, until one of us concedes.”

Silver waved him off, and said, “Enough talk.” He focused his eyes on Totodile, and said, “Quick, use scratch!”

On Silver’s word, Totodile sprinted forward toward Cyndaquil with its arm drawn back and its claws out. In one swift move, Silver’s totodile swiped at the cyndaquil, knocking the fire-type to the ground.

Cyndaquil took the hit directly, but managed to scramble back to its feet, seemingly unscathed.

“Cyndaquil,” Ethan called. ”Are you all right?”

Cyndaquil nodded once, and took its battle stance once more.

“Okay,” he said. “Hurry, use tackle!”

“Leer!” Silver shouted.

As Ethan’s cyndaquil came running forward, ready to tackle the bipedal water-type to the ground, Silver’s totodile spread its arms out wide, growling lowly and fiercely. Cyndaquil skidded to a sudden halt, gazing up at Totodile, its tiny eyes widening in fear.

“Use scratch again, Totodile,” Silver said.

Totodile leapt into the air toward Cyndaquil, its claws out once more, and slashed the fiery rodent across the face.

Cyndaquil tumbled backwards, eliciting a shout of concern and displeasure from its black-haired master.

Silver smirked. His pokémon had yet to take a hit. There was no way he would lose this battle.

“Ethan!” Kris cried from the sidelines. “What are you doing? You’re going to lose Totodile!”

Ethan swiveled his head in the blue-haired girl’s direction, his grey eyes full of worry. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what to do.”

“You could concede,” Silver suggested, smugly.

Ethan frowned deeply, and said, “No. I am not going to let you keep Totodile. You stole it. It doesn’t belong to you.”

Silver narrowed his eyes, and flicked his wrist dismissively. “Totodile, use scratch one more time on that cyndaquil. It’s time to finish this.”

“Cyndaquil, get out of the way!” Ethan cried.

As the bipedal water-type came rushing forward will full force, Ethan’s cyndaquil scrambled out of the way just in the nick of time.

Totodile, even though its attack had missed, did not look any bit frustrated. Silver, on the other hand, was not as nonchalant about it. With a deep scowl cut into his face, Silver grinded his teeth together. The battle had gone on for far too long. He needed to end it right here, right now. The fisherman had told him to meet him bright and early. He was wasting precious time battling this farmer boy from New Bark Town.

“Ethan,” Raiden said, harshly. “You need to be quicker when giving Cyndaquil an order.”

“I’m sorry,” the black-haired boy said, dishearteningly.

“Don’t be sorry,” Raiden said, scowling. “Focus on the battle.”

“Totodile, use scratch again!” Silver ordered.

Totodile, as compliant as ever, darted once more toward Cyndaquil. The fire-type was a slow pokémon, and Silver knew that if he continued to bombard it with attack after attack, it would soon fall.

“Ethan!” Kris cried. “Do something!”

Ethan looked like he was panicking, like he was overwhelmed. His grey eyes were wide in fear as he gazed at his helpless pokémon, unable to form a command to save it.

_He’s weak,_ Silver thought. _He knows nothing about pokémon. This battle was a waste of time._

Totodile was closing in on Cyndaquil, and Silver dug into his pocket for its pokéball, ready to return it once it knocked Ethan’s pokémon out for good.

“Tell Cyndaquil to use tackle,” Raiden said, quickly, his voice loud and firm. “Now.”

“What?” Ethan asked.

“Do it, now,” the older boy nearly shouted.

“Cyndaquil, use tackle!” Ethan said.

Right as Totodile appeared in front of Cyndaquil, its arm raised for another scratch attack, the bipedal fire-type pokémon slammed its small body forward with as much force as it could muster and tackled its attacker to the ground.

Silver snapped his head in the direction of Ethan’s companions, his eyes flashing in irritation.

“What the fuck was that?” he shouted. “You can’t help him!”

Raiden ignored him, much to Silver’s annoyance. Instead, he was staring intensely at Ethan and his cyndaquil.

“Your pokémon is relaxed in nature,” he explained. “It’s high in defense, so it can take a hit. But, it’s not very fast. Don’t bother telling it to dodge when you can order it to attack; that’ll waste too much time.”

Ethan nodded.

“How do you know what type of nature Cyndaquil is?” Kris asked.

Raiden folded his arm over his chest, and said, “It’s obvious from watching it battle. Low on speed, but high in defense. Those are the characteristics of a pokémon with a relaxed nature.”

Silver rolled his eyes. Who the fuck was this guy telling people about a pokémon’s nature?

“Totodile, use leer,” Silver said.

“Leer lowers a pokémon’s defense,” Raiden explained, spontaneously.

“What should I do?” Ethan asked.

“Use tackle again,” Raiden said. “But, this time, don’t have Cyndaquil look directly into Totodile’s eyes. Otherwise, it will be frozen in place again.”

“Hear that Cyndaquil?” Ethan asked his pokémon. “Use tackle, but don’t look at Totodile.”

While Silver’s totodile positioned itself to administer another leer attack, Cyndaquil barreled forward, its small eyes squeezed tight. Then, it made direct contact with Totodile, knocking it back a few paces.

“Use tac―” Raiden began.

Only, he was cut off when Ethan said, “Tackle, again.”

Without giving Silver another second to react, Cyndaquil had slammed into his pokémon with unexpected strength.

This time, Totodile landed on its behind, and started clamoring for Silver to do something. Silver grinded his teeth together, and growled lowly.

“Enough of this child’s play,” he sneered. “Totodile, use scratch.”

“Tackle, once more!” Ethan said, just as quick. “And, this time, give it all you got!”

The two pokémon rushed at each other, their respective attacks ready to be unleashed on the other. When they clashed, Silver noticed Ethan physically cringe. It was a painful sight, as their pokémon had collided into each other head on, but Silver knew that was something to be expected when battling pokémon. They got hurt. It was an inevitability.

Both of the pokémon had taken the other’s hit, but it was now a question of which one suffered the most damage. With bated breath, Silver watched closely for the result of the collision. Either his pokémon was going to emerge unscathed, or Ethan’s. There was no doubt about it. The battle was over.

Just then, Totodile staggered backwards from Cyndaquil, whose head was spinning in a daze.

Silver smirked at the sight. He won. He beat Ethan.

But, just as Silver was about to erupt in joy over his victory, Totodile teetered on its feet for a few seconds before crashing to the ground in a heavy heap.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

Over on the other side of the street, Ethan’s face was alive in shock and disbelief. His mouth hung open like a magikarp, and he was frozen in place, his eyes blinking again and again as if he could not believe what he was seeing.

Kris, on the other hand, was not as flabbergasted. She was jumping for joy, sprinting toward Ethan and tackling him into a hug. Sundance the houndour followed closely behind its master, and started barking, seemingly happy itself.

Raiden took his time coming over to congratulate Ethan, who attempted to gather the older boy into a hug once he saw him. The gesture did not seem to bode well with Raiden, who stepped away from Ethan before he could so much as put his arms around him.

It was here that Silver recalled Totodile, clutching its pokéball tightly in his hand.

Ethan turned then to face him, coughing to steady his voice and to regain his composure. He returned his cyndaquil, and then held out his hand toward Silver expectantly.

“I’ll be taking Totodile now,” he said.

Silver frowned, and gave the boy a saddened expression, as if departing from the stolen pokémon pained him. He, too, stretched it arm forward, offering Ethan Totodile’s pokéball.

“You beat me,” he said, dejectedly. “Are you happy you won?”

Ethan started forward toward him, his arm still outstretched for the pokéball. The black-haired boy shrugged, and said, “It was a good battle.”

He came to a stop in front of Silver, eyeing Totodile’s pokéball fixedly. Silver then made to drop it into the boy’s hand. Only, right as he did, he curled his fingers around the ball quickly, turning his hand into a fist, and swung upward, punching Ethan square in the chin.

The boy staggered backwards, hissing in pain, and startled gasps escaped the mouths of the two youths behind him. Silver sneered, and shoved Totodile’s pokéball into his pocket before taking off in the direction of the harbor. He was so close. He just needed to get there quick. That houndour would be after him in no time.

Silver sprinted ahead, the sound of impending barks reaching his ears. He scanned the docks quickly for the fisherman, hoping to find him before he was mauled to death by the dark-type pokémon.

He spotted the toothless man barely casting out on his boat at the far end of the dock.

“Kanto!” he shouted, waving when he saw him.

The barks behind him were getting closer and closer, and Silver could practically feel Sundance’s teeth gnawing on his ankles. Even so, Silver pushed forward, running as fast as his legs could carry him. He would have to jump. The toothless fisherman’s boat was drifting further and further away. Silver would have to leap for it.

He prepared himself just as he approached the end of the dock. The fisherman, with his tanned face, had his eyes wide in shock, as if he did not believe Silver was actually considering jumping for it.

Well, he was, and he did.

Slamming his foot down as close as he could to the end of the dock, Silver flung his body through the air, leaning forward to lengthen the distance of his jump until he crash landed in the toothless fisherman’s boat.

Feeling safe, Silver pushed himself to his feet. It was here that he saw Sundance leaping off of the dock after him. A brave pokémon. But, it was unfortunately very stupid.

When it got close, Silver, with his hand clenched in a fist, struck the beast in the snout, knocking it into the sea, where it began yapping and howling, its paws splashing around it as it treaded water in an attempt to stay afloat.

Back on the harbor, Silver saw Ethan and his companions running up. Kris cried out in displeasure, calling for Sundance to come back, and to get out of the water.

“You’re going to have to go in and get it, Kris,” Silver heard Raiden say. “It’s part fire-type. It does not like the water. It barely knows how to swim.”

“Stop!” Ethan called, addressing the fisherman. “Mister, you have to stop!”

The toothless fisherman was watching all of this unfold, confusion clear on his face. “What’s he goin’ on ‘bout? Those friends of yers, Kanto?” he asked.

Silver turned his back to the harbor and settled down on one of the boat’s benches. Ethan was still shouting for the man to stop, but it was clear that the fisherman had no intention of doing so. At least without a valid reason to.

“No,” he said. “We need to get as far away from them as possible.”

“Why’s that?”

“They’re bullies and thieves,” Silver explained, pulling out Totodile’s pokéball and showing it to the man. “They stole my pokémon.”

“Did they?” the fisherman sounded astonished.

Silver nodded, and threw a glance over his shoulder at Ethan and his friends. He was further away from them and the dock at Cherrygrove City now. The boat was drifting off, carried by the waves westward.

“I only managed to get it back, but they’ve been chasing me for it,” he said. “Them and that houndour.”

The fisherman gazed back at the marina, eyeing the three youths still standing on the dock, waving and calling for him to stop.

“Is that why you wanna get over to Goldenrod as soon as possible?” he asked.

“Yes,” Silver lied. “I’m trying to lose them.”

The toothless fisherman nodded, and turned his attention back to steering his boat.

“I didn’t think you were gonna show this mornin’, Kanto,” he said. “But, it’s good to see you here. Prepare yerself, we gotta long journey ahead of us.”

Silver nodded once in agreement, and then turned around to face the dock that was slowly shrinking in the distance. He could still pick out three distinct figures standing there, still waving. Their shouts were soon lost to the sea.

Softly to himself, Silver smirked.


	5. LANCE

The heavy silence in the bedchamber was only broken up by the sound of Lance’s soft chewing, and the rhythmic clinking of his fork against the plate as he ate. Seated on the other side of him at the grand desk, Empress Amaranth stared back, watching him, her brown eyes narrowed as her face was contorted into a look of absolute disgust.

Lance, from behind his desk, peered back at her, though his facial expression was completely nonchalant. He could care less if the empress was glaring daggers at him. He had the right to eat breakfast. Where he wanted and whenever he wanted. He cared not if he was disrespecting her. She was the one who had barged in on him, demanding an audience without as much as a preamble.

Lance stabbed his fork down on his c _hunbing_ again, bringing another piece to his mouth. With his free hand, he plucked up a parchment, and read it, continuing to ignore the dowager empress.

Her nails began tapping on the blackthorn wood of his desk impatiently, and Lance had to work to keep from snapping at her. It had not been ten days since Lance accepted the empress’ quest in finding her missing children. He could admit that in the first few days, he had tried. _Really_ tried to find them. He followed lead after lead, flying off to one city-state only to be led to another. After a while, however, it was clear his search was going nowhere. Lance would not say it, but he was just about ready to give up.

“I will never understand you,” she huffed. “You are eating a dessert for breakfast. Did you know that? Did you know you are eating a dessert?”

“It is not a dessert,” Lance said, keeping his eyes on the parchment paper.

“It sure appears to be,” Empress Amaranth said. “Johto traditions are far beyond my understanding.” She pointed a haughty finger at his plate, and added, “I do not know anyone else who would each such revolting food.”

Lance placed his fork down gently, and swallowed the rest of his breakfast. “Last I can recall,” he began. “Your daughter, the princess, actually enjoyed _chunbing._ She told me once it was her most favorite of foods.”

Amaranth’s face became rigid just then.

If the empress wanted to make personal attacks, then Lance was more than glad to beltline her. The mentioning of her children was a tender, tender spot. Unless she, herself, brought them up in conversation, talking about the prince or the princess usually warranted a rather hostile response from the dowager empress.

Only, anything Amaranth hoped to do, anything she hoped to say to Lance had already been done, already been said before. He had no problem in actively telling her off. She was a hateful woman. Lance owed her no courtesy, no respect.

He brought his attention back to the paper he was holding, his eyes skimming over the words.

It was a report sent from New Bark Town. The villagers there were asking for compensation, or some sort of monetary funding to help reconstruct their market. Apparently, a few days ago, there had been an attack involving an air-balloon and a pack of houndoom. It had been bounty hunters, according to the letter. Much of the town square had burned down, and a few lives had been lost.

Sighing, he made a mental note to speak with Walton, the master of coin, later concerning the finances. He supposed he could raise taxes, but he knew the rest of East Johto would not feel as enthusiastic about sending their money to rebuild a farming village’s town square. He could practically hear the complaints now.

Lance set down the parchment paper just in time to see that the empress had focused her attention on the inside contents of a small leather-bound book. Silently, he cursed himself. He had forgotten to stow it away last night, not thinking he would be having company in his bedchamber so early this morning.

Reaching across the desk, Lance tore the book from her hand, his face stern, and his eyes hard. He did not think she had read much, for she looked more exasperated than smug. But, that did not mean Lance would allow her to continue any further. He stuffed it into a drawer, shoving it under a mass of documents and other books he kept in his desk.

“And, what was that?” she asked with a frown.

“A journal,” he told her, simply. “For timekeeping. Notes. Dates. Things I should remember.”

“Really?” she sounded suspicious.

“Agatha gave it to me,” he said. “I have had it for nearly a decade. The earlier pages of that book contain thoughts I had when I was younger. Now, I mostly use it to keep track of important information.”

“Oh,” she said, plainly. “I see.”

Lance shot her a wary look, but decided to move on to another subject at his own expense.

Folding his hands neatly on top of his desk, Lance peered at the empress. “I understand your solicitude in the mystery behind your children’s disappearance, as well as the progress in which I have made in finding them,” he began. “But―I do not know how to say this delicately―I have done all―”

“No,” she cut him off.

Lance’s eyebrows rose in surprise at the suddenness and harshness of her tone. He sighed heavily. She was akin to a stubborn child.

“You must understand, _Kōgō_ ,” he said, patiently. “There really is nothing more I can do.” He sifted through the pile of documents lain out on his desk until he found the reports she had given him ten days ago. He took them into his hand, and tossed them before her, adding, “I have followed every trail, down to even the smallest of leads, and yet, nothing.”

“Try harder,” she all but ordered him.

Shaking his head, Lance said, “Prince Red and Princess Leaf, they are dea―”

“I will not hear this,” she said, sharply, cutting him off once more. “I will not listen to you tell me that my children are dead. I refuse to. Why would the Roketto-Dan abduct my children only to kill them later?”

“Perhaps, in the beginning, the Rockets had meant to use them as bargaining chips,” he said. “Perhaps they wanted a large sum of money, and thought they would receive it through the kidnapping of the emperor’s children.”

“Maybe so,” she said. “But, no ransom note was ever received.”

“The Rockets must have discarded them, then,” Lance said, frankly. “Originally, they must have planned to use the money received from bartering over the children to revive the Roketto-Dan. But, perhaps they realized there was no chance for a revival to be made, and abandoned their plans altogether. They must have killed them then.”

“No,” she said again. “I will not believe it. I will not believe they are dead until I see it for myself.”

Lance sighed again, thoroughly fed up with her antics, and said, his voice low, almost like a growl, “I do not know why everyone in this godforsaken palace believes they should be walking on eggshells around you, but, take heed, Amaranth; I will not and do not plan to be as gentle. They are _dead._ It is about time for you to face that reality.”

The sound that escaped from the empress’ thin lips was reminiscent of a wounded, or better yet, a dying pokémon. Lance watched, his expression unwavering, as the usually contemptuous woman crumpled from her uppity position into the chair she was seated in.

“I accepted your quest not because I was obligated to,” Lance told her. “But, because I felt it was my duty to do so. My duty to the people of Kanto-Johto, as well as the prince and the princess.”

“Personally,” he continued. “I do not like you. You are vain, and haughty, and unfit to rule a country, much less two. In these past three years, no significant laws, no actual change to policies, has been seen from the imperial court. Much of what was accomplished came directly from me or the other chiji. But, what we affect in Kanto-Johto only extends as far as to the borders of the sub-region we preside over. The amount of money that you have wasted on yourself, and on refurbishing the Royal Palace, unnecessarily, I will add, is despicable.  I do not agree with anything you do, and the claim you have to the throne, if it can even be called a claim, is so completely tenuous that I am surprised no one has tried to overthrow you yet.”

Empress Amaranth bristled at his words, and opened her mouth to respond, but Lance was not finished speaking.

“But,” he said, holding up his hand to silence her. “As you pointed out, I am one who can be compelled into action by justice and authority. The possibility of taking down any remaining Roketto-Dan personnel, or, at least, discovering the whereabouts of their missing leader, Lord Giovanni, spurred me into accepting your preposterous quest. Unfortunately, the threat of the Roketto-Dan is nonexistent. Any rumors of their return were just that.”

“The reports,” she insisted, gathering the documents he had tossed her way.

“Yes, the reports,” he said, nodding. “The reports that have done nothing more than fill you will false hope. The Roketto-Dan is gone, Amaranth. Your children are gone. It’s time to let them go.”

“I read them myself,” she said, ignoring him. “They describe sightings in Celadon. In Viridian.”

She almost sounded like she was pleading with him.

“The sighting in Celadon?” Lance asked, mockingly. “The one that claimed Giovanni Samejima was seen lurking around their abandoned base? Tell me, Amaranth, why would Lord Giovanni, a man who is wanted by the imperial court, go back to a place that had once housed his entire criminal organization?”

Amaranth Beniko shook her head fiercely, as if trying to dispel his words like they were some sort of demons attempting to possess her.

“Viridian,” she tried. “In Viridian, two mysterious figures were seen walking around. They were looking for a boy.”

“They could have been foreigners,” Lance said, dismissively.

“They were looking for a boy,” she said again, this time with more force. She rose from her seat just then, passion seemingly causing her to stand over the Dragon Master. She placed both of her hands flat on the desk, and said, “The report says they were looking for a boy. They were looking for Red.”

“They were looking for a boy with _red hair_ ,” he corrected her. “Your son did not have red hair. Or, have you already forgotten what he looked like?”

Her eyes started flashing in anger, and she stared down at him. “Don’t you dare accuse me of forgetting what my son looks like, Chiji,” she hissed. “Don’t you dare. I will never forget what he looks like. _Never_.”

Leaning forward in his chair so that he was closer to her, Lance glared up, unrelenting and unwilling to be intimidated by such a spiteful woman. “I do not doubt that,” he said. “You probably spend much of the day admiring your reflection in the looking glass. From what I remember, he bore a striking resemblance to you. If you forgot what he looked like, I would be very surprised.”

Amaranth scoffed, and backed away from him. She was silent for a while, and then, she said, her voice softer than before, “It was him. It had to be him. The Roketto-Dan must have altered his appearance. They must have colored his hair. He’s out there, I just know it. Him and Leaf.”

Lance opened his mouth to speak just then, but, before he could, the door to his bedchamber swung open, revealing Koizumi, the aqua-haired castle steward. His pale white face was flushed red, and he appeared to be out of breath. His eyes roamed over the entirety of the room, until they eventually settled on the empress.

“Kōgō,” he began, still working to catch his breath. “I have been looking for you all morning.”

Empress Amaranth, having straightened herself out, was now standing tall and stiff. Her composure was back to its usual pretentiousness, and she said, “I had much to discuss with Chiji Lance this morning. I apologize if it was of any inconvenience to you, Koizumi.”

“Not quite so,” the castle steward assured her. “However, at the moment, you have matters to attend to. The council has requested your audience.”

“Oh,” she said. “All right, I will be with them shortly.”

* * *

 

 

It was days later that Lance found himself on a solo trek up the steep mountains of the Indigo Plateau.

The Royal Palace, housing a considerable amount of high-profile personnel including the royal family, was built at the peak of one of the mountains that ranged between the nations of Kanto and Johto. Surrounding it on all sides were larger mountains that offered shade as well as protection from any possible invaders. It was the largest structure found in the Indigo Plateau, which, along with being what most civilians used as a name for the imperial court, also included the capital city itself.

The capital city, dubbed Silver Town, was a vast place with a whole array of people. It featured a relatively high mix of individuals from Kanto and from Johto, resulting in a nice blend of the two nations. It was built at the foot of the mountain that the Royal Palace was situated on, and, though liberal in most aspects, did retain the given religion of Arceism, something that had been since adopted into the culture after relations with Sinnoh opened almost three-quarters of a century prior.

From where Lance was, as he continued hiking up the mountain, he needn’t look too far to make out the unmistakable and massive structure of the Arceon, the pantheon for Arceus.

The flapping of wings overhead alerted Lance of his dragonite’s presence. He had released Vermilios at the start of his hike, figuring his pokémon would appreciate the fresh air.

Vermilios descended from the sky slowly, so that eventually, it was hovering slightly off of the ground beside Lance.

“See anything interesting up there?” Lance asked.

Vermilios shook its head, and then sniffed the air a few times before throwing Lance a thoughtful look.

“Smells like Blackthorn a bit, huh?” he asked.

The dragon pokémon made a sound, and then nodded in agreement.

The smile Lance gave his pokémon was small, and a bit wistful. Even so, Lance continued his trek up the mountain. The summit was not too far from where he stood; he would reach it in a matter of moments.

When he finally reached the top, he inhaled deeply, and sighed once before reaching for the other pokéball at his waist. Taking it into his hand, he released his charizard, Maegor. After it materialized, the pokémon flew off into the sky, seemingly thankful to be able to stretch out its wings.

Even from way up high, Lance could make out some of the larger structures found below in Silver Town. There was the Arceon again, and the pristine white-tiled streets surrounding it on all sides, a sharp contrast to the dirty grey sett that the rest of the capital city was covered with. A few meters south of that and Lance could really see the differences in the various parts of the city. The slums of Silver Town appeared to be completely doused in a dull brown color.

Lance frowned once, and then gazed out into the distance, turning his head in the direction of Johto.

Aside from the Dragon Temple, the mountains were another place frequented by Lance. He liked the solitude, and the quiet it offered him. That and, well, it reminded him of his home.

Leaving Blackthorn for the Indigo Plateau had been difficult. He had invested many memories into the city-state. The mountains that surrounded the castle, the dirt-trodden streets, the lake in the Dragon’s Den, the Dragon Temple, all of which he would, and did, miss. In all fairness, however, Lance could admit it was not really the places themselves he yearned for, but rather, the person he was with when all of those memories had been created. A person to whom he had not wanted to leave behind.

“Well?” Clair had asked, impatiently. “You brought me up here. What is it you wanted to talk about?”

They had been standing on a mountain ridge similar to the one Lance was standing on now. Only, it had been the one that looked over the entirety of Blackthorn rather than the Indigo Plateau.

Lance had sighed heavily, and said, softly, “My father is dead.”

“I know,” she had said, snappily. Then, realizing her tone, and his downcast facial expression, she had softened her voice, and again said, “I know that, Lance.”

“I don’t think you realize…” he had begun.

“Realize what?” she had asked.

“He was an important man, Clair,” he had said.

“He was,” she had agreed. “Is this what you wanted to tell me?”

“No,” he had said. “I…I’m going to be leaving for a while…”

She had only stared at him, her blue eyes blank, her face emotionless. Lance could remember the long bout of silence that hung over them as she let his words sink in. He could remember the wind, and how it swirled around her, blowing strands of azure hair into her face, the smell of wisteria wafting over to him.

The silence between them had seemed to last forever.

“You’re going to the capital,” she had finally said. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

“Indefinitely,” he had told her. “The details are still slowly being presented to me, but, from what I understand, I will be staying there…forever.”

“That’s good,” she had said, her face becoming artificially animated. “You will learn much in the capital. Blackthorn is incredibly small. I doubt you would’ve achieved anything if you were stuck here.”

“Oh,” he had said, lamely. “You seem happy to hear me go.”

She had frowned then, and said, “I’m not happy you’re leaving, if that’s what you think.”

“Aren’t you?”

“No.”

“Then, why does it seem like it?” he had asked, frowning.

“What would you rather have me do?” she had asked.

“I don’t know,” he had admitted. “Get upset.”

“You would like for me to be upset?”

“No,” he had said, shaking his head. “Yes… No... I want you to react like you. You’re lying to me right now, Clair. I know you. You’re hiding how you really feel.”

She had turned her head away from him, gazing out into the distance. Then, she had brought her hand to her earlobe and had begun fiddling with her earring. “Am I?” she had asked. “Or, are you just desperate to find a reason as to why you should stay?”

He had shaken his head again, more fiercely than before. “No.”

“I could tell you,” she had begun. “I could tell you what you want to hear. I could tell you I want you to stay. That I would be miserable without you. Would you like that?”

He had not responded, and she had stepped closer to him, gripping the collar of his cape in both of her fists.

“I could tell you I hate you. That I want to kill you for leaving me,” she had continued, her voice rising. “That I want to strangle you right here, right now, with this stupid cape of yours. Is that what you want for me to say?”

Lance’s face had relaxed then as relief washed over him, and he had covered her fists with his own hands, pulling her fingers loose to release the grip she had on his cape. She had never been one to admit what she was truly feeling, but Lance had known she was more upset than she was letting on. This had been confirmed when she had relinquished her hands to him, all strength in her fingers fleeing her. She had looked so betrayed, so hurt. He had laced their fingers together, and gently cradled her into his chest.

There had been more silence, but Lance could remember it had been a comforting silence. A silence that had allowed him to say everything he had wanted to without uttering anything at all.

“I love you,” she had murmured.

“I know.”

Lance gripped the collar of his cape, the same cape he’s owned for more than a decade, and yanked it back, feeling the need for air. His chest felt heavy, and he had to exhale loudly once before gathering himself.

Beside him, Vermilios had its feet planted on the ground, and was watching him attentively. Dragonite were intelligent pokémon. It was very likely it knew what its master was thinking about.

The mountainous air of the Indigo Plateau felt fresh and cool on Lance’s face, and he soon felt the heat on his cheeks begin to fade away. Even still, the memory lingered.

The mountains were supposed to be a sanctuary for him. A place where he could stare down at the world from above, like a supreme being. The land, the people below were so small and distant. It was like he was presiding over it all. Like he was the ruler of the realm. The emperor himself. Agatha had suggested he thought himself to be a god among men. This was not true, of course. He was a strong trainer. A powerful trainer. Arguably the world’s best.  But, he was not _a_ _god among men._ Gods do not get flustered over past memories about their cousins. 

_It’s the time of year,_ he begrudgingly thought. _The air was just like this. It was warm just like this._

Suddenly, a shrill scream echoed throughout the mountains, and Lance as well as his dragonite turned their heads in the direction it came from.

It was quiet the few seconds that followed immediately after, but, just as Lance turned away, thinking nothing of it, a second scream rang out.

In an instant, he was rushing off in the direction of the screams. He needn’t look at Vermilios to know the pokémon was thinking the same thing he was. With his cape whipping behind him, Lance dashed ahead of his dragonite, his feet nimble, careful, as he descended the mountain.

He found the source of the screaming a few minutes later.

Immediately, as he arrived on the scene, Lance took notice of the two small forms cowering up against the mountain side. Children, they were. Two small boys, who looked no older than ten had their backs pressed against the side-facing wall of the mountain. Before them, an ursaring was standing tall, its claws out as it roared in fury. As Lance stepped closer, he also became aware of another small form. Only, this one was crumpled in the dirt and rocks of the mountain path, a small pool of blood beginning to form around them.

The ursaring had yet to notice him, and because of this, Lance knew he had to act fast. There was an advantage in having the element of surprise on his side.

“Vermilios,” he said, his voice low. “Hyper beam.”

The dragon pokémon stepped forward, opening its maw before releasing a powerful beam of light toward the ursine pokémon, sending it flying backwards.

The ursaring roared once in rage as it got back to its feet, its nostrils flaring. Then, it started racing toward Lance at top speed, its paw drawn back as if it meant to slash him. It probably would have if he had not stepped out of the way in time.

“Use hyper beam again,” he told his dragonite. “And then, use thunderbolt.”

Vermilios, as complacent as ever, directed the two attacks at the outraged ursaring, one right after the other. Lance did not think he needed to apply the courtesy rule of taking turns here as he battled the wild pokémon. There was the safety of children at risk. Every second counted. And, he still had yet to reach and assess the seemingly lifeless form lying in a pool of their own blood.

As expected, the consecutive attacks were hard-hitting enough to knock the ursaring down. While it lied there, unconscious, Lance made his way over to the body of the third child. Reaching down, he gripped their shoulder lightly before turning them over on their back.

The sight was a scarring one, but Lance gritted his teeth and bared it anyway. It was a small girl. Her face was splashed in blood―her blood―and was absent of all color. Across her chest were four long slashes, presumably from the ursaring. The slashes appeared to be the source of the blood, for her once-white linen shirt was now completely soaked in red. Her eyes were wide open, frozen in the final look she would ever have. The absence of the steady rise and fall of her chest signaled to Lance that she was dead.

The two boys, who had been trapped up against the mountain side, quickly flanked to his side, gratitude as well as despair and concern on their lips. The expression they had for their friend was met with deaf ears, as Lance, though nodding along, was transfixed, and a bit haunted, by the familiarity he found as he looked into the girl’s blue eyes.

It was not until Vermilios nudged him that Lance realized he should be moving.

Standing abruptly, Lance faced the two boys, and asked, “What were you three doing up here?”

“Playing,” the smaller boy said, his voice trembling. Tears were streaming down his face, and snot was dripping from his nose. “We were playing.”

“Where are your parents?” Lance asked. “Do they know you are up here?”

“We don’t have any parents, mister,” the taller boy said. He too was crying, but he was not as full of snot as his friend.

“No parents?”

“We live under the watch of the High Priest, and the Sisters of Judgment,” the taller boy said.

_Orphans,_ he thought.

“We will go to them, then,” Lance said. He turned to his dragonite, and said, “Find Maegor. I need for him to return.”

Vermilios nodded once, and took off in search of Lance’s other pokémon. Meanwhile, Lance focused his attention on the small girl. He did not want to leave her. Various pokémon roamed the mountain ranges for food. It would be inhumane to leave her for them. She was dead already, but the least Lance could do for her now would be to have her properly buried. Or, whatever it was the High Priest or the Sisters of Judgment had in store for their dead.

He knelt down and carefully gathered the girl into his arms. She was lighter than she looked, but Lance figured as much.

As he started off down the mountain path, the two boys followed closely behind, silent in their sorrows, save for the sound of sniffling coming from the smaller boy. Grimly, Lance knew it was their fault their friend was dead. He would not voice this thought, as it would be insensitive. However, it was the truth. A cold truth, but the truth nonetheless.

They continued walking for a while longer, and then Lance heard the sound of wings flapping somewhere nearby. Looking up, he saw his two pokémon descending towards him. As they neared, Lance shifted the girl’s body around in his arms so that he could take ahold of his pokéball, and return his charizard.

Vermilios, on the other hand, remained out in the air. Lance signaled for it to land, so that he and the two boys could climb up onto its back, making the trip to Silver Town quicker than it would have been if they walked.

When the three of them settled on his dragonite’s back, Lance, with the girl’s body lain across his lap, ordered Vermilios to fly. The dragon pokémon did not seem to mind the extra weight, for the boys and the girl were not the heaviest of people, but Lance could tell it had trouble keeping them on its back. Normally, Vermilios would fly at a rate in which it knew Lance was comfortable with. But, with two children aboard, Vermilios had to work to find an appropriate speed to fly without sending them rocketing into the sky.

Eventually, Lance’s dragonite found a balance, and they were soaring through the air. The boys seemed fascinated and impressed to be so high up in the air, and, for a moment, they appeared to have forgotten the death of their friend. It was not until they landed on the white-tiled streets around the Arceon, however, that they remembered her.

The arrival of Lance and his dragonite attracted a lot of attention almost immediately. Excited whispers, pointed fingers, widened eyes full of amazement, these were some of the things Lance noticed as he climbed off of Vermilios’ back.

“You live here, right?” he asked the two boys as they climbed down from his dragonite.

The taller boy nodded, and then, looking past Lance, he caught sight of something, and his eyes went wide. The smaller boy at his side made a similar expression, causing Lance to turn around to see what it was they were so surprised about.

Coming toward them, dressed in a white robe trimmed in gold, was a woman. As she approached, Lance noticed she was significantly younger than she appeared to be. Upon first glance, he had assumed she was elderly, but that was simply because of her hair. However, as she neared, he realized the silver of her hair actually had a bluish tint to it.

Along with the white robes, she wore a long dark grey sash across her chest and the golden cross-wheel of Arceus around her neck. Under her eyes were two small emeralds, markings to imitate the ones found on the Original One. She was a Sister of Judgment, Lance concluded. The emeralds under her eyes were specifically worn by Sisters of Judgment. The other clergy, from what Lance remembered in the limited interactions he has had with Arceists, did not wear the emeralds. They wore the white robes and the sash and the cross-wheel, but they did not wear the emeralds.

“Sister Karen,” the boys said in unison, bowing their heads once she came to a stop before them.

But, Sister Karen was not looking at them. She was looking, quite intensely, at Lance. Or, more specifically, the dead girl in his arms.

Her eyes traveled from the lifeless body up to Lance’s face, where she met his gaze. “What,” she began, carefully. “What happened?”

“We were playing in the mountains,” the taller boy explained. “An ursaring attacked us.”

“It killed Penny,” the smaller boy said, miserably. He was sobbing more heavily than before.

Karen stared at the two boys, but her expression was soft and absent of reproach. “I believe I told you three that playing in the mountains was forbidden,” she said.

“You did,” the taller boy said. “We apologize.”

“An apology will not bring back Pennycress,” the Sister of Judgment said with a slight shake of her head. “You are lucky Chiji Lance was there to save you.”

“We’re sorry,” the taller boy said again. “We promise to never go back there.”

Karen nodded once, her facial expression still calm despite it all. “Go inside,” she told them. “I will have the High Priest speak with you two later.”

When the two boys ran off, Lance adjusted his grip on Penny’s body and said, “I could have gotten there sooner. I could have saved her.”

Karen tilted her head slightly and offered him a small but sad smile. “I do not think you could have done so,” she said. “You did the best you could, given how far away you must have been from them. Your aide is most appreciated, Chiji Lance.”

“As is yours,” he said. “You care for orphans.”

The Sister of Judgment chuckled lightly. “If you put it into that perspective, than I suppose so.” She outstretched her arms then, signaling for Lance to pass Penny’s body to her.

“I can carry her for you,” he said.

“Hmm,” she began. “I believe you are discrediting me. I have enough strength to carry a young girl.”

Lance shook his head, and said, “I was not discrediting your strength, Sister Karen. I was simply taking into account the whiteness of your robes.”

“Sullied they will become, Chiji Lance,” she said. “My robes are simply that. Robes. Blood may not wash out, but what I wear is only immaterial.”

“Spoken like a true Sister of Judgment,” he mumbled under his breath. Even so, he made no move to pass over Pennycress’s corpse.

Smiling lightly, Karen reached forward and placed a tentative hand on Lance’s arm. “I can take her,” she assured him. “I do not wish to subject you to any further discomfort.”

“But, I do not feel uncomfortable,” he said, his brows furrowed.

“Ah,” she said. “But, you do. Carrying Pennycress would require you to follow me into the Arceon, down to the basement. I speak not false words when I say you will experience greater discomfort than you are now. Lie to me if you will, but I do not have to look very far into your face to see such action would trouble you. I am no stranger to the true thoughts and motives of men, just as you are no stranger to sin.”

Lance’s mouth went dry, and he scowled deeply. He had liked how the conversation was going. Pleasantries and friendliness. But, if the Sister of Judgment was calling him a sinner, she had another thing coming.

With nostrils beginning to flare, Lance pushed the dead girl’s body into Sister Karen’s chest forcibly and without warning. “No stranger to sin, huh?” he growled. “What are you implying?”

_She couldn’t know. There was no way she could know,_ he thought, angrily.

Similarly, he felt his face begin to redden.

Karen encircled her arms around Penny’s body, no struggle or strain, as she had assured him, in holding the girl steady. Her white robes became stained in blood almost immediately.

A look of confusion had settled across her face as she peered back at Lance, and she said, matter-of-factly, “I was only referencing the worship you have over false gods, Chiji. But, I can see from your reaction alone there is something more than that.”

Lance gaped before taking a step back.

“If you have something to repent for, Chiji,” she said, determination and a slight eagerness in her voice. “I can help you. We accept all. The strong. The weak. There is no discrimination. The path to purity is long and winding, but through admitting your faults, you will be hallowed.”

“That is quite all right,” Lance said, coolly, grasping for the composure he once knew. “I must be on my way back to the Royal Palace. The blood is beginning to stick to my skin, and I feel very unclean.”

He turned sharply on his heel, mounting Vermilios and ushering it to take off into the air. As he flew away, Lance could not help but glance back at the Sister of Judgment. Even from so high up, he could still see her standing there on the white-tiled streets just outside of the Arceon, her gazed locked up on the sky as she watched him flee.

_She couldn’t know,_ he thought again. _She couldn’t._

But, as the Dragon Master put more distance between him and Silver Town, he swore he could still feel Karen’s silver-blue eyes on him, searching into his soul, pulling out his deepest kept secret.

* * *

 

 

Lance was deep in sleep the next day when he heard the door to his bedchamber slam open. It was still early. Very early. Lance was known to get up before the sunrise, but the time in which he was awoken now was too early, even for him.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position, the furs falling and settling over his lap. He slept with little to no clothes on, and knew he had to at least appear awake before whoever had barged into his bedchamber started yanking the blankets off of the bed and him.

As he worked to blink the sleep from his eyes, simultaneously adjusting to the darkness of the room, Lance soon realized the intruder was the empress herself.

“What are you doing, Amaranth?” he asked in as much irritation he could conjure up. “Do you not realize that, popular to contrary belief, I am not a vampire, and, therefore, need my sleep?”

The empress seemed to not hear his words, or at least the tone in which he said them, for she sat down on the edge of his bed, a strange excitement about her. So much for propriety.

“I have something for you,” she told him.

Lance yawned, and asked, angrily, “Couldn’t it have waited for the morning?”

“It is morning,” she said.

“Actual morning,” he said.

“Whatever,” she said. “You’re up now, so here.” The empress waved a piece of paper into his face, and then shoved it into his hands.

“Do you expect me to read this?” he asked. “I cannot see.”

Empress Amaranth rose from the bed, and then fumbled in the dark by his bedside table until she found the fire steel. With it, she moved and lit the small tinder box, where she finally brought a lone wooden splint to the candlestick, bringing light to the bedchamber.

“Scoot over here,” she told him. “And, read.”

Lance sighed heavily before obliging. As he moved closer to the light, he focused his eyes on the parchment before him:

_We have reason to believe persons of the Roketto-Dan are here, on One Island. Suspicious activity seems to have increased in the past week, and there has been a number of unfamiliar faces seen loitering on Mt. Ember. Furthermore, our suspicions have been confirmed thanks to letters received from Six Island, where separate sightings of Rockets have been made as well._

“What does this have to prove?” Lance asked. He rubbed his eyes, and yawned again. “What do you mean to tell me with this?”

“It proves that the Roketto-Dan is still out there,” she said. “It is not just a rumor, Chiji. Their appearance has been confirmed not in one, but two separate places at the same time.”

“And?”

“And,” she began, matching his tone. “There you go.”

“What do you expect me to do with this information?”

“There is to be a council meeting today, if you can recall,” she told him. “There, I will present my plan, my plan for you to travel to the Sevii Islands, and to do what you will with the Roketto-Dan found there.”

“You’re really going to drag the council into this?” he asked, incredulous. “You’re really going to rope them along in this ridiculous fantasy of yours?”

“I am,” she said, proudly. “And, it is not a ridiculous fantasy. You read the report. The Roketto-Dan _is_ in the Sevii Islands.”

“I doubt the council will approve,” he said, scoffing. “I do not see why you need to inform them of your plan anyhow. You’ve already had me flying around Kanto-Johto following false leads.”

“As a matter-of-fact,” she admitted, stepping back further from his bed. “I have been given an ultimatum. Either I accept the council’s proposal for remarriage, or I will be casted out of the imperial court, and a new emperor will be put in my place.”

“Wow,” he said, sarcastically. “I never thought I would live to see the day.”

“Quiet yourself,” she hissed, folding her arms across her chest. “With this new information, I hope to convince them to give me until the end of the year to find my children before they enact the ultimatum.”

“How long are they giving you now?” he asked.

“I have up until the summer season’s end to make my choice.”

“High-stakes,” Lance said, thoughtfully.

“That is why I am hoping to convince them otherwise. If you find my son or my daughter, I would not be forced to do anything I do not want to do.”

“Oh,” he began, unsympathetically. “Is being forced to marry something that does not bode well for you? Please, take my sympathies.”

Empress Amaranth rolled her eyes, snatching the parchment out of his hand and turning to leave. “I suggest you get dressed, Chiji Lance. The council meeting does not start until eight, but you should be prepared nonetheless,” she said, over-her-shoulder. She stopped at the door frame, and eyed him through the darkness, adding, “And, perhaps, reconsider sleeping in the nude. It is very unbefitting of you.”

As she slipped away, the door to his bedchamber closing gently behind her, Lance scowled.

“I was not sleeping in the nude,” he called after her.

Hours later, Lance was dressed and seated at the long wooden table in the council chamber. On the other side of the table, facing him, were the five councilmembers. Lord Charles Goodshow, the head councilman as well as the master of law, sat in the center chair.

Beside Lance was Chiji Bruno Nakahara. The chair adjacent to him was empty, for it was usually the one in which Lorelei sat. But, as of late, she was currently at her home in Four Island. The chair on the other side of Lance was also empty. Saved for Agatha, the elderly woman had yet to arrive. Similarly, at the seat on the far end of the table, where the emperor, or in this case, the empress, sat, Lance saw she too had yet to make an appearance.

“How long has Lorelei been gone?” Bruno whispered, albeit rather loudly, to Lance.

“Yes,” Narissa, the master of foreign relations, said, cooing. “How long has Chiji Lorelei been gone?”

Lance frowned and gazed around the table, only to see all six pairs of eyes trained on him. He made a face. “Why is everyone looking at me so expectantly?”

“You look like the man to ask,” Walton, master of coin, admitted.

Lance hummed in displeasure, but said, “Thirteen days. She left the day after Blue Oak left for Viridian. That was two weeks ago, so she’s been gone for thirteen days.”

“She has been gone for quite a while,” Lord Goodshow observed.

“She must have business to take care of,” Bruno said. “If I know Lorelei, I know she’s working hard on whatever it is that needs working on. Right, Ryuzaki?” He elbowed Lance in the ribcage.

Bruno was mocking him, as the fighting-type master knew very well the nature of the relationship he shared with Lorelei. Lance rubbed his chest, frowning.

Just then, the door to the council chamber opened, and in stepped Agatha. The woman was gripping her cane tightly as she made her way forward. Lord Commander Dawrec stood abruptly and helped her into her seat.

She thanked him gently before taking in the faces of those around her. In seeing that the meeting had yet to start, Chiji Agatha Sato sighed, and rested her hands on the table top.

“Are you well, Agatha?” Lance asked, lightly.

The ghost-type master nodded, offering Lance a small smile. “I have become increasingly tired over the past few days. There is no need to be concerned. It will pass,” she said.

“Tired?” Lance asked. “Are you not sleeping?”

“I know the Joy’s got a menagerie of grass-type pokémon,” Bruno said, joining the conversation. “I bet you could get yourself some of that sleep powder to help you, you know, sleep.”

Agatha pursed her lips, and said, “I do not have trouble sleeping. Quite the contrary actually. I just find that I have little to no energy anymore…”

Suddenly, the thick council chamber door, again, opened, this time a bit more forcibly, revealing Empress Amaranth Beniko in all of her divine glory. In her hand, Lance saw the report she had shown him earlier this morning. Behind her, trailing happily in her wake like the houndoom he was, was the aqua-haired castle steward.

The five councilmembers, as well as Bruno and Agatha, rose as she approached, utterances of _Kōgō_ on every one of their lips. Lance, reluctant to stand, found himself rising as well. Though, he was unhappy about it.

When everyone had taken their seats again, the empress started off speaking right away.

“I know there are many pressing issues to discuss here today,” she said, looking at the councilmembers “But, I would first like to address something that had been since brought up in our last meeting.”

“Concerning what exactly?” Narissa asked with a scowl.

“The nature of our…agreement,” the empress said, carefully.

“We are not going to hear it, Kōgō,” Narissa said. “And, if you do not wish to inform the Elite Four of our ‘agreement,’ as you call it, then I would advise you to hold your tongue.”

Narissa, master of foreign relations, was a bitter, old crone. She had a penchant for following protocol, and never strayed too far from the law. Her ideals were strict, and unforgiving.

“Narissa,” Lord Goodshow chided. “She is our empress. We should do well and listen to what she wants to say.” He turned to Amaranth then, and asked, “What is it?”

Empress Amaranth held up the parchment in her hand, and Koizumi immediately carried it over to Lord Goodshow.

“Late last night, I received a report from One Island, describing sightings of Roketto-Dan persons prowling about on Mt. Ember,” she said. “I know you told me I had a choice to make by the summer’s end, but I would like to propose an alternative.”

“Which is?” Humbolt, master of agriculture, asked.

“That you give me until the end of the year,” she said. “I know the Roketto-Dan has my children. They are the only possible culprits. Now that they have reemerged, I believe the possibility for my children’s return is all the more likely.”

Lord Goodshow, having read the report, passed it over to Lord Commander Dawrec, who sat on his right side. “We do not know for sure if this claim is even valid,” he said. “Yes, both One and Six Island have reported sightings, but they may not be completely true.”

“Common folk tend to exaggerate things,” Humbolt said. “Usually, they want attention or more money.”

“True or not,” she said. “It does not hurt to try. My children are out there still, I know it. If we manage to find them, then this whole business about remarriage would be discarded.”

“How can you be certain they’re still alive?” Lord Commander Dawrec asked. He shuffled in his seat, adjusting the plated armor on his chest. “How can you be certain they aren’t lying in a ditch somewhere?”

“I am positive they’re not dead,” Amaranth said, firmly.

“And so, what do you propose to happen?” Narissa asked.

“That Chiji Lance goes off to the Sevii Islands to investigate,” she said. “If he finds the Roketto-Dan, he could bring some of them in for questioning or perhaps coerce information out of them about Red and Leaf.”

At the mention of his name, Lance sighed heavily, readily receiving the looks that were thrown his way.

“Chiji Lance is going to go to the Sevii Islands?” Narissa asked, incredulous. “For you?”

“He is,” Empress Amaranth said, sharply. “And, I do not see why you are so surprised. I am the empress. It is the duty of the people to serve me.”

“Lance,” Lord Goodshow began, slowly. “Are you really going to go to the Sevii Islands?”

“It depends on whether this quest is being approved or not,” he said, simply. “Like the empress said, it is the duty of the people to serve her. I am merely doing my job as a citizen.” He glanced around the room, looking every person in the eye, and added, “The empress wants for you to give her until the end of the year, so that she may find her children. They may be out there. They may not be. It does not matter. Hope is the very least you can give her, especially since you’re planning on tossing her out of the imperial court by the end of the summer.”

The council was quiet for a moment as they all turned to one another, exchanged glances passing between them. Then, amongst themselves, they began to murmur lowly. This was something they often did, and Lance figured he would do well to focus his attention elsewhere than wait for them to finish their discussion. From her seat at the end of the table, Empress Amaranth Beniko beamed at Lance, who merely stared back at her with an expression of boredom.

Walton, master of coin, shook his head, and let out an exasperated sigh. “Just let him go,” he said aloud. “There’s no harm it in. If Lance wants to go to the Sevii Islands, let him go to the Sevii Islands.”

Lord Charles Goodshow offered both Lance and Empress Amaranth a small smile. “We will approve of this quest, as well as the alternative you presented, Kōgō,” he said. “However, we are only making a revisal to the ultimatum. You have until the end of the summer’s season to find your children. If not, the original two options will stand, and you will have to make your choice whether you want to or not.”

“Fine,” Amaranth said. “That’s fine.”

“Lance?” Charles Goodshow asked.

Lance only shrugged.

“Good,” the master of law said. “Let’s move on.”

* * *

 

 

It was at sunset that Lance found himself outside in the courtyard of the Royal Palace. Vermilios was out of its pokéball, and Lance had Maegor’s pokéball clipped to his belt, just in case he would need to use his charizard later.

Only one person had come to see him off, and, surprisingly, it was not the empress, but rather Bruno.

The fighting-type master was stroking Vermilios on the back, much to Lance’s displeasure. It was not as if he disliked when people touched his pokémon, but rather, he disliked when they did so as roughly as Bruno Nakahara did.

Lance folded up the report about One Island the empress had since given him and stuffed it into his pocket. Then, he stalked over to Vermilios and Bruno.

“Well,” the chiji of West Johto began. “I guess you’re about to be off.”

Lance nodded once, and patted his dragonite before asking, “Is there something you wanted, Bruno?”

Bruno, for the first time since Lance had known him, looked sheepish. It was obvious he had something on his mind, something he intended to tell the Dragon Master.

“About Lorelei,” he said.

“Yes?”

“Since you’re going to the Sevii Islands, maybe you could perhaps check up on her,” Bruno suggested. “I know I said she must be busy, but I was just wondering…”

His voice trailed off, but Lance understood what his fellow Elite Four member was trying to say regardless.

Nodding, Lance mounted his dragonite and said, “I will be sure to stop by Four Island on my way back.”

Then, after urging Vermilios upward, Lance was soon soaring through the sky.

Guiding his dragonite southward, Lance approximated he would be in the Sevii Islands very shortly. It was faster to travel by flying-type pokémon than it was by airship or air-balloon. Dragonite could fly up to top speeds, circumnavigating the world within a day or less if they wanted to. Lance had often wondered what it would feel like to go so incredibly fast, but he feared he would probably die if he chose to find out.

The sun was slowly setting on the horizon, sinking further and further into the sea. Lance found himself smiling as Vermilios flew over the ocean. It was not every day that he saw the sun as it seemingly dipped into the waters of the sea.

Up ahead, Lance spotted a set of islands, and Vermilios made to descend. That was until the Dragon Master patted the dragonite lightly, assuring it that the islands they were approaching were not their intended destination, but rather the arcane Seafoam Islands.

“A little further,” he told his dragon. “We’re going to the Sevii Islands.”

Vermilios bobbed its head, and pushed ahead, its wings folding slightly as it prepared to accelerate. Lance gripped onto the dragonite’s back as it speeded through the air.

When One Island came into view, unmistakable by the massive and dormant volcano that rose from the center of the island, tall and unwavering like a sentinel on watch duty, Lance’s dragonite began to make its descent.

Touching down, Lance leapt off of Vermilios’ back, his cape fluttering in the cool ocean breeze behind him, and landed on the damp sand waiting for him. His boots, black and immaculate, were soon spotted with little granular specks as he trudged forward to the quaint village up ahead.

Similarly, Vermilios opted to walk as well. It did that a lot, walk in favor of flying, at least when Lance was concerned.

Once in the village, Lance searched for the path that led up to Mt. Ember. He had no need to chat with any of the villagers, as his mission was to investigate the volcano, not the town.

He spotted a small dirt-trodden path at the far end of the village, and made haste walking over to it.

Though it was just about sundown, there were still a considerable amount of people about, doing everything they could commerce wise with the limited amount of daylight that remained.

As per usual, Lance attracted attention in his wake. It did not help with Vermilios trailing behind him, as a dragon-type pokémon was a rarity to be seen anywhere, especially in the Sevii Islands. And, the clothing in which Lance dressed himself with was, in no way, inconspicuous.

But, Lance did not mind the looks. He reveled in it actually. People seemed to revere him, as his presence alone suggested he was someone of importance. And, he was. From the day he was born, he was someone of importance. Heir to Blackthorn, and then an Elite Four member, Lance never once entered a room and felt unnoticed. A small part of him pitied the common folk. For their dull lives and even duller clothing.

Lance and Vermilios started up the path that led to the dormant volcano, the two of them quiet but quick in their trek. All the while, Lance kept his eyes peeled for any suspicious figures. Chances were if any activity were to occur, it would be under the cover of darkness. That was why he had decided to leave for One Island at sunset rather than earlier in the day.

Now at the base of the mountain, Lance gazed around in the ever-growing darkness. He eyed Vermilios, watching as it did the same, the antenna on its head glowing brightly.

“I’m going to return you,” he told Vermilios. “You’re glowing, and I fear it will attract too much attention.”

The dragonite nodded, and Lance pulled out his pokéball, withdrawing the pokémon.

Alone, Lance began his search. He was quiet while he looked, and he was sure to keep his footsteps slow and light. The gravel underneath his boots would crunch, that was an inevitability, but he made certain to apply as little pressure as possible when he stepped.

For a while, the investigation yielded no results. He checked around the volcano’s base for what seemed like hours, and yet, nothing. No suspicious figures. And, certainly no Roketto-Dan.

That was until he came across a small, man-sized hole in the face of the volcano.

Lance’s defenses went up, and, though he did reach for his pokéballs, he was not planning to do anything too rash, at least not yet.

The Dragon Master stepped forward carefully, his eyes darting around him, and then into the dark cave up ahead. He stuck his hand inside first, to see if it led further back. He was met with open air, and a soft breeze against his skin. It was a cave all right.

With a bit of hesitation, Lance made to step forward. Only, he was startled when he heard a small voice emerge from behind him: “What are you doing?”

Lance whirled around, his heart just about leaping from his chest, and saw that the owner of the small voice was a girl.

“What are _you_ doing?” he questioned with a fierce intensity.

The girl shrugged, and said, “Not much.”

“ _Not much,_ ” Lance murmured to himself.

“And, you?” she asked, her head tilting slightly. “What are you doing?”

Lance found himself narrowing his eyes at the girl. She all but scared him out of his wits, and was acting nonchalant about it. About everything.

Even so, there was something oddly familiar about her.

“I was taking a walk,” he proclaimed.

“Really?” she asked, her brows knit. A playful smile danced across her lips then, and she held up a single parchment paper, unfolded it and read, “ _We have reason to believe persons of the Roketto-Dan are here, on One Island. Suspicious activity seems to have increased in the past week, and there has been a number of unfamiliar faces seen―”_

Lance’s mouth parted in shock, and then he patted his pocket for the report, only to find that it was missing. Scowling, he ripped the parchment from her hands.

“How did you do that?” he asked, angrily.

“Do what?” she asked, the same smile on her lips. Then, she held up her other hand, showing him two pokéballs. “This?”

Lance stared down at his belt only to find his pokéballs were missing. With gritted teeth, he lunged forward for them. To no avail, the girl was quick, and seemed to be dancing around him as he tried to catch her. All the while, she was giggling at his expense, like they were playing a game.

“I wonder what type of pokémon you have,” she said before releasing the pokéballs.

Out in flashes of white light came Vermilios and Maegor.

The two pokémon appeared to be confused, and gazed expectantly at Lance for instruction. Growling lowly in irritation, Lance reached for the girl again, and seized the pokéballs from her hands. Then, he offered his dragonite and his charizard an apologetic look before returning them.

The girl chuckled softly, and remarked, “Those were some tough pokémon.”

Frowning deeply, Lance clipped his pokéballs back to his belt and patted himself down to check to see if she had stolen anything else. Luckily, everything was still in place.

He pulled his cape around him, and glared at her, grumbling something incoherent.

“But,” she sing-sang. “I have an even more impressive pokémon than your dragonite and charizard combined.” She gazed up at the night sky, and called, “Mew!”

Lance furrowed his eyebrows, and glanced upwards, his mouth pressed in a hard line. The girl did not have Mew. Mew was a legendary pokémon. And, people did not own legendary pokémon.

But, he stood to be corrected, as a small, pink bipedal pokémon floated down and into the girl’s arms, cuddling her. Hugging it tightly, the girl beamed at Lance, and the smile struck him back, as it seemed to stir something deep within him he could not, for the life of him, pinpoint. Unlike the devious and playful smiles of before, the one the girl was presenting him now had a familiarity to it. A sweet innocence. A sense of pride and genuineness.

“You were right,” he said, astonished. “That is a remarkable pokémon.”

“You think so?”

Lance turned sharply on his heel in alarm at the sound of a new voice. He was met with a horde of men dressed in black overcoats, sinister smiles, and the unmistakable red ‘R’ on each of their chest pockets. 

The Roketto-Dan.

Whirling his head back to look at the girl, and to perhaps urge her to run, Lance was met with another surprise. The girl was giggling impishly, and the smile she once sported had morphed into one of mockery. She squeezed Mew again, and it began to shine brightly, its form shifting until it was just a pink blob. A ditto.

Dumbly, and miserably, Lance realized he had just fallen into a trap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: For those of you who are reading, thoughts? Predictions?


	6. ETHAN

 

For the life of him, Ethan could not figure out why Kris was upset.

He knew who she was upset with. That was evident in the reaction, or lack thereof, she had whenever he tried to converse with her.

But, he just did not know what he had done to make her that way.

After their encounter with the thief in Cherrygrove City, Kris’s mood had soured tremendously. Usually snide and sarcastic and full of opinions, the Kris who was walking steadily along the trail before him was about as cold and frosty as the winter.

Ethan knew from past experiences that whenever Kris became irritated, spite would cause her to start snubbing him. He also knew there was no use in trying to probe her for a disclosure. If she wanted to tell him why she was upset, then he was all ears. Unfortunately, that was not the case. Ethan knew she was determined to ignore him for as long as possible. For the past few days, that determination had yet to falter.

The road in which the trio was traveling down was a winding one; it twisted and turned, and Ethan was almost certain he would have gotten lost if it were not for Raiden, and the uncanny sense of direction he seemed to have. Between Cherrygrove City and Violet, one of the oldest standing city-states in Johto, the dirt-trodden, frequented path was clear with little to no obstructions. On either side of the road, thick, tall evergreen trees stood like giants overlooking all those who were found traversing the footpath. Pine leaves, spiky to the touch, stretched out in all directions, sometimes extending into the road itself, gracing Ethan in the arm or catching on his cotton haori.

Up ahead, Ethan noticed that Raiden had started to slow down. The fourteen-year old, having led the expedition thus far, was dragging his feet to a halt, his boots shuffling in the dirt. One glance up at the sky, and Ethan knew the other boy was meaning to stop and set up camp for the night. The daylight was dwindling at a magcargo’s pace, but it would not be too long before the world around the three youths was covered in darkness.

“We’ll rest here,” Raiden told them.

Ethan was absentmindedly fiddling with the ties of his pack as he came to a stop near Raiden. “How much longer will it be until we get to Violet?” he asked.

Raiden unshouldered his own pack and started rummaging inside. “Not much longer,” he said, definitively, pulling out an apple and rubbing it with the long sleeve of his tunic.

“But, how long?” Ethan asked.

It was here that Raiden’s eyes slide over and met Ethan’s. The other boy’s face was hard and neutral as always, but it also held the look of restlessness and exhaustion. Raiden admitted he only ever sleep four hours at night, and it was starting to really show. The hired hand had bags under his eyes to begin with, but the longer their journey for Totodile stretched on, the more prominent the dark circles became.

Similarly, Raiden appeared to be annoyed with Ethan’s question. But, that was not something very new.

“As an approximation,” he added, quickly. “If you don’t mind.”

Raiden’s eyes remained locked on Ethan’s face for a while longer before he finally said, “A day. Maybe two.”

“That’s good,” Ethan said, enthusiastically. “We only have to hold out for a couple of more days, and then we’ll be smooth sailing all the way to Azalea. Hopefully, we’ll manage to get there before the red-haired boy.”

Raiden nodded, and said, grimly, “If the storm hasn’t moved inland, that is. We should be able to catch a ride on an airship. Otherwise, we’ll be forced to walk. And, from the look of it, I doubt either of you are going to want to take the road out of Violet to Azalea.”

“Why’s that?”

“There’s a cave that sits between the two city-states,” Raiden explained. “There’s also no other way around it. We would be forced to enter.”

“The Union Cave,” Kris intoned. “People are said to get lost in there. Some even perish amongst the darkness.”

Her voice was hollow and distant, and a bit frightening to Ethan.

“It’s a deep, dark labyrinth,” Raiden agreed.

“Sounds terrifying. Hopefully, there aren’t any scary pokémon inside,” Ethan said. He cracked a smile, and added, “Right, Kris?”

Kris’s eyes, icy and blue, met his, and Ethan suddenly felt as if the world itself had frozen over. It was like all warmth was sucked from his body just by Kris’s look alone.

With lips pressed in a hard, straight line and a stare so stone cold Ethan felt himself shivering, Kris had managed to silence and crush any sort of happy-go-lucky feelings he had hoped to inspire within her.

_Poor mistake,_ Ethan thought.

Just the same, Kris turned away, her lips still downturned, and stomped off into the trees, mumbling something about finding berries. Happy and complacent as ever, Sundance the houndour trotted after her. Kris did not even seem to notice it, as she hardly gave word of her annoyance in seeing the quadrupedal dark-type trailing behind her.

When she was gone, Ethan sighed deeply, a heavy hand on his skin as he rubbed his palm down his face. “What did I do?” he asked, miserably.

Raiden was eyeing the apple held tight in his left hand before he threw him a sharp look. “You don’t know?”  

“No.”

“Cherrygrove City,” the older boy explained, as if it was obvious.

“What about Cherrygrove City?” Ethan asked.

Raiden scowled, as if he could not believe Ethan was so completely dense.

“Is it about the boats? Is she upset because of the boats?” Ethan asked. “Look, I tried to get us passage onto a boat. I did. I really did, but none of the other fishermen were willing to go out as far as Azalea. They said a storm was coming. That only an idiot would go that far. Someone with a death wish.”

Raiden frowned at Ethan.

“About the airships then?” Ethan asked. “Because she knew Cherrygrove City didn’t have any airship docks. I know for a fact she knew. Only city-states have airship docks. That’s common knowledge.”

“No―”

“I mean, what was she expecting?” he asked, cutting him off. “If there was an easier way to get to Azalea, wouldn’t we be taking it?”

Raiden was frowning even deeper than before. “Ethan…”

“I know,” Ethan began. “I know she never wanted to come along on this journey. I know she didn’t…”

“Ethan―” Raiden tried to interject.

“If she’s homesick, then she…we could just go back home…”

“That’s not it at all―”

Ethan sighed heavily, not hearing any of what Raiden was saying, and then, with great resolve, he said, softly, “I was way in over my head. It was stupid of me to think I could get Totodile back… He’s gone forever…”

“Ethan,” Raiden said, sharply, pulling off his sedge hat and standing over the younger boy, staring him in the face. His brown eyes were flashing with thunder and lightning, and Ethan suddenly felt paralyzed by his glare. “You know she’s upset with you, but you don’t seem to realize that it’s not because of the boats, or the airships, or even homesickness. It’s because you didn’t listen to her.”

Ethan was taken aback, scrunching his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“She’s your friend―sister―or whatever,” Raiden said, sternly. “You should do well and listen to what she tells you.

“What did she tell me?” Ethan asked, his brows still knitted together.

“She warned you against battling that boy for Totodile.”

"But, it was the right thing to do. It was the fair thing to do,” Ethan argued. “All disputes are dissolved through pokémon battles.”

“That maybe so,” Raiden said. “But, in the real world, not everything is fair. The boy stole a pokémon. I hardly think being honorable and doing the right thing applied in that situation.”

“Then, what was I supposed to do?” Ethan asked.

“To be frank, I don’t know,” Raiden said, candidly.

“I beat him though,” Ethan said. “I beat him in the battle.”

“Yes, you did,” Raiden agreed. “But, look what happened after. He hit you in the face and ran off.”

Ethan rubbed his chin. The pain had subsided, but he was certain there would be a bruise there for the many days to come. “That really hurt,” he said. “For a small kid, he punches hard.” 

“He’s fast too,” Raiden said, ruefully. “He plays by his own rules. Next time, we will know better than to trust what he says or does.”

“Kris was right to warn me about battling against him,” Ethan lamented.

“I was.”

Ethan, and similarly, Raiden, startled. They whipped their heads around to see Kris and Sundance standing at the tree line, the former eyeing the two boys mistrustfully. As she approached, Ethan offered her a nervous smile.

“Welcome back, Kris,” he said, his face flushed red as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Kris arched one of her brows, and shot him a weary look. Then, she sighed softly and stuck her hand out, showing him a pouch. “I gathered a bunch of oran berries,” she said without preamble. “Want some?”

Ethan nodded fiercely, and held out his hands. “Yes,” he said, over-eagerly. “Please.”

Carefully, and lightly, Kris dumped some berries into Ethan’s open hands. Then, she glanced over at Raiden and asked, “You?”

Raiden tossed his hat on to the ground and shook his head, holding up the apple he had yet to bite into. “I’m fine,” he told her. “But, I’m going to need your houndour. I want to get a fire started, and try cooking some of that magikarp we bought in Cherrygrove City.”

Kris scowled at his words, probably because she did not consider Sundance to be her pokémon. But, in Ethan’s opinion, Sundance did belong to her. He did not want to outright say the houndour was abandoned, because it really wasn’t. It was only a matter of circumstance that Sundance was left behind. From what he remembered, Cassidy appeared to have cared for the houndour quite dearly. And, to be honest, Ethan did not think anyone as beautiful, as angelic, as ethereal as her could have it in them to willingly abandon a pokémon. She was probably out looking for it.

However, Cassidy was not here. And, for some odd reason, Sundance had chosen Kris as it’s new, or perhaps, temporary owner. Because of this, it was Kris’s responsibility, her _duty,_ to care for the canine pokémon, whether she liked it or not.

Ethan gazed down at the aforementioned dark-type. It was partially sitting on Kris’s foot, scratching itself with one of its hind paws.

Kris ignored the houndour, much like she had been doing for the past few days. “Why?” she asked Raiden. “Can’t you use Cyndaquil?”

“Cyndaquil doesn’t know any fire-type moves yet,” Raiden told her.

Ethan nodded, confirming the brown-haired boy’s statement. “He knows smokescreen though,” he said. “Cyndaquil learned it after his battle with Totodile.”

“Fine,” Kris said. She nudged Sundance with her knee, and said, “Go make a fire or something.”

Sundance stared up at her in bewilderment. When she nudged it again, it simply gave her the same confused expression. Kris groaned and pushed it toward Raiden, but the houndour resisted, and instead seemed to be frowning at her. It was here that she threw her hands into the air in annoyance.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she asked the dark-type. “Go make a fire!”

“’ _Go make a fire’_ means little to a pokémon,” Raiden said, flatly. “Especially to one who was supposedly raised and trained to be a tracker.”

Kris turned on Raiden, scowling.

“Either you tell it to use flamethrower, or you teach it that command,” he said. “Otherwise, you’re just going to end up getting frustrated.”

Kris groaned again. “Fine. Whatever,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Raiden appraised his blue-haired companion for a moment, and then, he said, “I’m going to gather sticks.”

He then proceeded to walk off into the forest, without allowing so much as a word from the other two.

Alone with Kris and Sundance, Ethan focused his attention on the oran berries in his hands. Yet to be touched, he gathered them together and scarfed them all down at once. The taste of an oran berry, Ethan knew, was supposed to range on all ends of the spectrum. And, truly, it did.

Kris liked oran berries, that was something Ethan was well aware of. Back in New Bark Town, when Elm would send them out to gather berries, Kris always made sure to find a tree that held them. She was good at spotting them too. She was good at spotting all types of berry trees. Berries were her forte. She knew the different types, and flavors, and even how to incorporate them in to various dishes. It was a weird quirk she had, but Ethan liked it.

After thoroughly swallowing all of his oran berries, Ethan snuck a wayward glance at Kris. She was settling down in the grass with her pack, her bedroll tucked under her arm as she continued sifting through the contents inside. Ethan took the opportunity to do the same, unshouldering his own bag, and pulling out his bedroll.

They were not sitting very close to one another. Though, they were not necessarily sitting that far apart either. All the same, Ethan felt as if the distance between them was unceasing, as if any attempt in trying to reach her would be futile. He hated the feeling in his stomach, the tugging sensation that eventually spread to his entire chest. He knew not where it was coming from, but he hoped it would stop.

“I’m sorry,” he said, suddenly.

Kris did not seem surprised to hear it, and simply turned her head to look at him. “It’s okay,” she said, offering him a non-Duchenne smile.

“Is it?”

Sighing, Kris set down her pack in her lap, and placed her hands over the canvas fabric, her fingers splayed across the material. Immediately, Sundance took this as a sign she was welcoming it to lie on her, and settled down with a flourish onto of her. She groaned, and yanked her hands out from underneath the quadrupedal pokémon, a deep-cut frown etched into the corners of her lips.

She sighed again, and said, “It is. It’s not like you knew that boy had no intention of giving Totodile back.”

“Can I ask you something?” he tried, carefully.

“Sure.”

“Do you think… do you want to go home?”

A puzzled expression took shape on Kris’s face, her brows knitting together and her lips pulling down into a frown. “Why do you ask that?”

Ethan shrugged, but kept his eyes focused on his hands, clasped together in his lap. “I was just wondering…” he began. “I know you probably didn’t want to come along. On this journey, I mean. You’re only here because I begged you to.”

When Kris did not respond right away, Ethan decided to continue.

“If you want to go back home, you can,” he said, gently. “I wouldn’t be upset if you left. Raiden and I, we could continue without you. You don’t have to stay, Kris.”

It was here that Ethan lifted his head and spared a glance at his friend. She was not looking at him; rather, she was staring off into the growing darkness of the forest around them. Her hands, balled into fists, had come to a rest on Sundance’s back. With the setting sun, Ethan could see her whole body was tensed up, stiff.

“Okay.”

The murmur was so small and distant that Ethan had half a mind to believe she never said anything at all. Even so, he tried a smile in her direction, but she was still staring out into the forest. He followed her gaze, frowning, as he searched for what she was looking at. To no avail. He could not see anything but the darkness, slowly stretching, spreading through the trees and verdure.

For the rest of the night, conversation was minimal, even when Raiden returned with wood for the fire. Not that Raiden offered much to talk about anyhow, but Ethan felt a dejection within him that he could not seem to dispel, no matter how hard he tried.

Raiden utilized Sundance’s flamethrower attack to get the fire going, assuring Ethan and Kris that maintenance would be left up to him, as he still was their protector, or nursemaid, as Kris had put it.

The magikarp they had purchased, along with the other supplies when they had been in Cherrygrove City, was large enough for the three of them to share. The divided proportions were substantial, and Ethan was glad to finally have something fulfilling to eat.

The road thus far had yielded no actual sustenance. Berries, apricorns, and various plants had been encountered on numerous occasions during the journey, but they could only satisfy a person for so long. The inclusion of purchased fruits and baked goods did better in terms of filling the trio’s stomachs, but there was no denying the power of cooked meat.

When Ethan finished his fish, he snuggled deep within his bedroll, happy that he had a full belly and a fire to warm him.

Sneaking a last look at Kris, he frowned when he found she still wore that faraway look on her face. He pulled the blankets up to his chin, and let out a breathy sigh.

She was going to leave in the morning.

The reply she had given him earlier, the _‘okay’_ implied as much.

When Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, he felt the same pulling sensation as before resonating deep within the pit of his stomach. He tried ignoring the feeling, but it persisted. Much longer than it had before.

He later fell asleep to the crackling of fire, and the sound of loud snoring from the dark-type pokémon sleeping a few paces away.

* * *

 

 

“Ethan!”

At the sound of a hushed but urgent voice, Ethan’s eyes fluttered open and he sat up, gazing around him, confused. Sleep was still pushing down on his lids, and his vision was partially blurry, but he worked to find the owner of the voice all the same.

“Ethan.”

Again, he heard his name, and he swiveled his head in the direction of the voice. Now wider awake, he could see that it was Kris who was calling out to him.

“What?” he asked, whispering. “What’s wrong?”

Kris placed a finger to her lips, and then pointed behind him, to where he had left his pack and boots. Only, his pack and boots were not all he saw. About a meter away from where he was lying, a pokémon was scavenging through his bag. It was small, and stood on its two hind legs. Its fur was purple and it wore a big, bright grin.

An aipom.

Ethan watched as the aipom pulled out his berry pouch, and began shaking it, hoping to get at what was inside. When it realized it could not get the pouch open, the aipom discarded the bag, tossing it carelessly behind it. It then moved on to the different potions Ethan had purchased for Cyndaquil, shaking the purple and orange vials vigorously.

“Hey!” Ethan shouted.

The aipom froze, the vials in its hands falling back into the bag, and locked eyes with the black-haired boy before it. Ethan tried to quickly scramble out of his bedroll, only to get his legs tangled in the blankets, giving the aipom a chance to flee.

And, flee it did.

To the trees.

But, not without a souvenir.

In its hand-like tail, it held a single pokéball. Ethan’s pokéball. The one that contained Cyndaquil.

Ethan fought against his sheets and blankets, his hands and fingers quick as he tried to get free from his bedroll. All the while, the aipom was laughing, and dancing up on the tree branch above him. It waved the pokéball in the air, as if meaning to taunt him.

Growling in frustration, Ethan got himself free, and hurried to his feet. He stood directly under the aipom’s branch and frowned.

“That does not belong to you!” he shouted. “Give it back!”

The aipom did not seem to care much for his words, and instead, continued to dance jovially above him.

“Kris,” Ethan said, turning toward his friend. “Can you get Sundance to attack it for me?”

Kris gazed over at the houndour, only to see that it was already up in arms over the aipom. Its body had lowered into an attack position, and it was growling lowly at the purple pokémon. With teeth bared, Sundance looked just about ready to fight. 

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “Use flamethrower, Sundance.”

A fiery blast was shot out from the houndour’s open mouth, spiraling in the direction of the pesky and thieving aipom. Knowing that it was a normal-type, Ethan was certain Sundance’s fire attack would do some substantial damage. He did not expect the flamethrower to completely wipe out the aipom, but he hoped it would do as much as knock it out of the tree.

Unfortunately, Ethan’s certainty was poorly and wrongfully felt.

The aipom dodged the attack, leaping to another branch for safety. All the while, it was laughing and chattering at Ethan, who grew increasingly frustrated at being taunted.

Sundance continued to attack, but, each and every time, the aipom leapt out of the way with ease.

Thoroughly fed up with the aipom’s antics, Ethan decided to try his luck jumping for it. It proved to be a futile effort, as the tree branch the thieving pokémon was sitting on now was higher and further away. Again, the aipom responded mockingly, waving Cyndaquil’s pokéball around in the air, teasing Ethan further.

With gritted teeth, Ethan marched up to the tree and began to climb it. “Fine,” he mumbled. “Have it your way.”

“Ethan, what are you doing?” Kris asked.

“Climbing this tree,” he told her. “I’m getting Cyndaquil back one way or another.”

“You’re idiotic,” came Raiden’s voice. “Wait for the aipom to give it back.”

Ethan turned his head toward Raiden, and said, “It’s not going to give it ba―!”

Just then, something landed on Ethan’s head, bopping his forehead back and kicking him from the tree. He landed on his back with a thud and a groan of pain. Though he had not climbed too far up the tree, the fall was enough to knock the wind out of him for a moment.

When he gazed up, he saw the aipom perching from a lower hanging branch, laughing like a maniac at his expense. Ethan glared at the pokémon, for he was certain it had been the one to knock him from the tree. The aipom did not seem to mind, and rather, it jumped forward through the air, landing again on his head. This time, it danced around in his hair, messing it up with its feet.

Ethan made to grab for the purple pokémon, but he was too slow, and the aipom leapt away. Only, it did not get very far, as Raiden snatched the little thief mid-jump by the tail. He held it upside down, frowning, before seizing Ethan’s pokéball.

As Raiden tossed the apprehended pokéball back to Ethan, he was met with a fierce facial attack. The aipom, having drawn its hands back, launched an assault of scratch attacks on Raiden’s face.

Like hot fire, Raiden dropped the aipom, groaning in displeasure.

Ethan scrambled to his feet, a look of determination on his face as he held out his pokéball. “Cyndaquil, go!” he shouted before throwing the pokéball forward.

Cyndaquil emerged with a squeal of delight, and Ethan jabbed his finger forward in the direction of the aipom. “Smokescreen, now,” he said, quickly.

Cyndaquil did not hesitate to execute its master’s orders, and released a cloud of smoke from its mouth that soon spread throughout the campsite, shrouding nearly everything and everyone around.

Ethan brought the sleeve of his haori up to his nose and mouth to protect himself against the smoke, and said, “Cyndaquil, if you can see, tackle the aipom.”

Though the smoke was dark and dense, Ethan managed to catch sight of his pokémon scurrying forward toward the aipom, eventually ramming into it with all of its might. The aipom surprisingly did not try to evade the attack, and instead, took it full-force.

The behavior of the normal-type was strange, and Ethan raised his guard, as he was certain the aipom would have leapt out of the way by now.

Similarly, the retaliation that the aipom inflicted upon Ethan’s cyndaquil did not come as a shock. It scratched the fire-type across the snout with its hand.

If Ethan knew anything about aipom, he knew that they generally used their tails while battling. Only, as the battle continued, and Ethan ordered Cyndaquil to attack the purple pokémon with an endless barrage of tackles, he began to realize that the particular aipom he was battling was not that strong. Its attacks were hard hitting, but because it was weaker than Cyndaquil, little damage was done to the small fire-type.

Vaguely, Ethan remembered that wild pokémon had to learn how to be strong on their own. That was why the younger ones attacked trainers. They hoped the battle experience could help them become powerful.

The aipom had wanted to fight, he realized. It was weak, and needed to engage in some sort of battle. That was why it had not yet run. It was also probably the reason why it was not using its tail. The aipom did not know any moves involving its tail.

Eventually, through Ethan’s strategy of simply ordering the same attack over and over again, the aipom succumbed to the might of Cyndaquil, and collapsed, exhausted.

Ethan did not cheer when the aipom fell. He had not engaged in the battle with it for fun. He had done so to spite it, to punish it. Anger and irritation had driven him forward. But now, he could see that he was wrong to take out his wrath on the poor pokémon.

“Naughty in nature,” he said aloud, turning to Raiden for confirmation. “Right?”

It took Raiden a second to process what he was talking about, but he eventually said, “Aipom are actually, by default, naughty and impish. However, this particular one has the characteristics of a naughty-natured pokémon. Low in special defense, but its attack was pretty high. If it wasn’t weaker than Cyndaquil, it probably would’ve won.”

Ethan nodded, his eyes fixed on the fainted pokémon before him. He took a knee down, the dirt of the ground below rough even as he felt it through the wool of his pants.

Cyndaquil looked fatigued, but it was still holding on. When Ethan extended his arms for it, the fire-type scurried over to him, and collapsed into his embrace. He snuggled his pokémon to his chest, his thumb light as he stroked its dark green fur.

“You know,” Raiden said, eyeing the aipom. “Adding another pokémon to your team wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

“Huh?”

“Aipom are pretty useful,” the other boy said. “They’re like the thieves of the pokémon world, or, at least, one of them. We could utilize the aipom when encountering the thief. It could steal back Totodile’s pokéball.”

Raiden’s words rang true in Ethan’s head, and as he ruminated on it for a bit, he eventually decided that he would catch the aipom. It had wanted to battle him for experience, for strength, for power. If it wanted to be powerful, Ethan could not promise anything, but he would try as best as he could to get it there.

Nodding, Ethan went over to his bag and dug out a spare pokéball. He had found one scattered on the road, unused and abandoned after the trio had left Cherrygrove City, which, evidently was all out of the tiny capsules. He had not known if or when he would use it, but he was glad he picked it up anyhow. Kris, of course, had argued against him picking up any foreign objects. But, as always, he failed to listen to her, and gathered the loose pokéball anyway.

The aipom was barely starting to stir, but he knew it would not get very far. It still needed to recover, so running away would be a futile effort.

“Aipom,” he called. “You’re mine now, okay?”

The aipom lifted its head at the sound of Ethan’s voice, and grinned. Taking that as confirmation, as well as permission for its capture, Ethan tossed the pokéball forward and watched as it pulled the bipedal normal-type in with a ray of light.

The ball shook three times until a soft, distinctive click was heard, and Ethan knew Aipom was his. He found himself smiling as he walked over to gather his newly caught pokémon. Similarly, Cyndaquil seemed to be excited to have a new friend, as it was squealing happily in Ethan’s arms.

“Congratulations,” Raiden said as he tipped his sedge hat down slightly in Ethan’s direction.

After packing up their camp, and starting off down the road, continuing forward to Violet, Ethan went about healing his two pokémon. With the potions he had purchased in Cherrygrove City, he made certain Aipom and Cyndaquil were healthy and strong enough for another possible battle, if one were to arise.

Much to his surprise, Kris was still tagging along. Ethan was certain she would have left earlier this morning, and yet, there she was, walking side-by-side with him, her houndour galloping at her feet.

Though she seemed content, especially considering the events of the morning, there was an eerie silence about her. Ethan did not think he should press it, but he figured she had decided to stay, despite what she had told him. Then again, she had not truly given him a definitive answer when he suggested that she go home. She had merely said ‘okay.’ It had been him to interpret that answer as a sign she would be returning to New Bark Town the next day.

The silence between them was not uncomfortable or awkward, however. Everyone was seemingly deep in thought, even Raiden, who was at the helm of the group.

It was here that Aipom burst out of its pokéball and appeared on Ethan’s back, its feet firmly planted on each of his shoulders, its hands pressed lightly on his head.

“Hey,” he chided. “What are you doing out?”

In response, Aipom danced merrily on his back, chattering away. Ethan cracked a smile, and he reached back to pat the normal-type affectionately. It was a bit heavy, but not as heavy as he expected it to be. Aipom were supposed to weigh up to eleven kilograms. The aipom he had caught was a bit young, so it had yet to reach its expected weight.

“You want to play, huh?” he asked.

Aipom cackled, rubbing its hands through his hair, causing Ethan to laugh.

“I’ll let you stay,” he told it. “But, don’t get carried away.”

Kris was watching him with a baffled expression. “Do pokémon normally do that? Burst out of their pokéballs?” she asked.

Ethan shrugged, and admitted, “I’m not too sure. I suppose if they wanted to, they could come out whenever.”

Kris threw a wary and disapproving glance at Sundance, and said, “When we get to Violet, I’m buying a pokéball for this beast. I just pray to Arceus that it won’t burst out of its pokéball like Aipom.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” Raiden deadpanned. He did not turn around to face them as he spoke. “Sundance likes you. Most likely it will want to remain by your side over being confound in a pokéball.”

“What?”

“Naughty, impish, and jolly-natured pokémon are more prone to jumping out of their pokéball despite being returned,” he explained. “But, pokémon that are stubborn, or, in your case, adamant, will also burst out of their pokéballs as well.”

“Great,” Kris said, sarcastically. She stared intently at the back of Raiden’s head, furrowing her brows, and asked, “How do you know so much about pokémon anyway? You talk about their nature, and you seem to know a whole lot about the different species.”

“He was Elm’s hired hand, remember?” Ethan supplied. “He was a pokémon expert. I’m positive the different natures were something they discussed. Elm’s studies focused more on eggs. It probably helps with breeding if you know the nature of the two pokémon.”

“That’s right,” Raiden said. “It helps with breeding to know.”

Kris seemed to accept the explanation. “Oh, okay.”

The rest of the morning was filled with pleasantries and pokémon antics. As the trio continued down the path to Violet, they encountered various wild pokémon. Pidgey, rattata, weedle, caterpie. All of which were mere pests as opposed to actual threats.

On one particular incident, Kris encountered a wild raticate. She had stepped down, mistakenly so, on its tail, inciting it to attack her. She had frightened, screaming when it rushed her. But, as always, Sundance the houndour was there to save her. It needn’t not to be told to protect her, for it did that all on its own. With a bite attack, Sundance had the raticate flinching between its powerful teeth before roughly discarding it into a nearby bush. The rodent pokémon had scurried away as quick as its tiny paws could carry it.

At times like those, it was easy to forget Sundance was a happy, cheery pokémon. The houndour seemed to take on a serious persona when it came to battling. It was a vicious, threatening pokémon if it wanted to be.

All the same, Sundance was trotting merrily alongside Ethan and Kris when its ears suddenly became erect, and it bolted away.

Kris shot Ethan a wary look before calling out for her houndour to return.

Only, it never did.

Instead, a loud and sudden yelp echoed from the trees, alarming both Kris and Ethan alike.

“Sundance?” Kris tried. “Sundance, come back here.” She waited a while for a response, but when it became clear one would never come, she turned to Ethan, and said, “Something’s wrong.”

Raiden stepped closer to the two younger teens, the knife he kept in his boot brandished in front of him. “Keep a watchful eye out,” he told them. “I don’t think we’re about to get ambushed, but you can never know.”

“Ambushed?” Kris cried out.

“Hush.”

Just then, another yelp, louder and mightier than before, rung out from the trees. It was Sundance; there was no doubt about it. It was in trouble.

Ethan made a step forward, only to be held back by Raiden, who shot him a silencing glare. “Don’t,” the other boy warned.

The yelp soon turned into a yowl, and Ethan felt his heart breaking at the sound.

“He’s hurt,” Ethan said. “Sundance is hurt. We need to help him.”

He turned to Raiden, hoping to make him understand, but he was not looking at him. The other boy’s face was hard, but his eyes were elsewhere as he watched, and listened. Ethan then looked to Kris, pleading with her instead. Her eyes had widened, and she was trying to get her breath to slow, for it had quickened in the sudden excitement.

The yowling continued, and Raiden, seemingly ignoring it, said, “We’ll help him. But, first, I need to see if it’s okay to move. Elm tasked me with protecting you two. If either of―!”

Without giving a second thought, Ethan rushed forward, pushing past Raiden’s hand, and off in the direction he heard the yowls coming from. Even though he heard Raiden’s shout of disapproval, Ethan did not stop. Instead, he surged forward, determined to reach, to find Sundance. The dark-type needed help. He would not stand by and allow for it to get hurt.

Vaguely, he became aware of the two figures dashing up from behind. Raiden and Kris. They were chasing after him.

As Ethan continued forward, the yowls started to get louder, more distinct. Similarly, he also heard raucous chatter. That did not bode well for Ethan, but he knew he could not coward out now.

Ethan, and a few seconds later, Raiden and Kris, eventually came to a steady stop in a large clearing. Before them were three small boys, each of them looking no older than ten. They wore plain clothes, wool pants, cotton tunics, and worn-down and cheap leathered boots. One of them was wearing a sedge hat, straw and similar to Raiden’s, and he held a thin, wooden bug-catching net in his hand. They were standing under a tree. A tree that held poor Sundance, trapped and caught in a larger twine net, forced on its back with its legs up in the air, rendering the pokémon unable to move.

One of the boys was stalking over to the rope that held the net up, meaning to untie it, but before he could, Kris shouted out in protest, “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

The three boys turned in alarm.

“Catching a pokémon,” one of the boys said. “What does it look like?”

“It looks like you’re stealing!” Kris shouted. “That pokémon belongs to me!”

“Really?” the boy who held the bug-catching net asked. He shot a look toward the boy who had spoken before, and said, “I guess we should give it―”

“Hold on, Don,” the boy from before said, cutting his companion off. He narrowed his eyes at Kris, and asked, “How do we know you’re not lying? Maybe you were trying to catch this one yourself.”

“I wasn’t,” Kris said, irritated. “That’s my houndour.”

“Is it?” the boy challenged. He shrugged his shoulders, and added, “Return it to your pokéball then.”

Kris gritted her teeth, and clenched her fists. “I can’t.”

“Because?”

“Because I don’t have one.”

“Huh,” the boy said. “Hear that, Mikey? Don? This girl claims the houndour belongs to her, but she doesn’t even have a pokéball for it.”

Mikey, the boy who had remained silent thus far, snickered. “Good thing you’re here, Joey,” he said. “Otherwise, dumb ole’ Don would’ve just willingly given up our catch.”

Kris was absolutely livid. So much so that she was starting to shake with rage.

“Why don’t you just give back our houndour?” Ethan demanded. “She doesn’t have a pokéball for it, but it still belongs to her.”

“Oh, wow,” Joey said, throwing a glance to his friends. “Who’s this kid?”

“Kid?” Ethan asked, frowning. “I’m older and taller than you. You’re the kid.”

Joey scoffed, but pulled out a pokéball, holding it tight in his tiny hand. It looked completely oversized for the small child. “Fine,” he said. “If you want the houndour so bad, we’ll battle for it.”

“Sounds good to me,” Ethan said with a glare, matching the boy’s tone.

“All right then,” Joey said, chuckling slightly. “Three-on-three. Ready or not, here we go!”

He tossed his pokéball forward, and a rattata emerged, small fangs bared as it hissed at Ethan, who gritted his teeth as he took on a battle stance of his own.

Ethan was not about to be overdone by the kid. If he wanted a battle, a real, actual, fair battle, then Ethan was ready. He wasn’t going to let Joey steal Kris’s pokémon. There was no way. He pulled out Cyndaquil’s pokéball and threw it forward, releasing the small fire-type.

“Let’s go, Cyndaquil,” Ethan cried. “Tackle Rattata!”

“Rattata get out of the way,” Joey shouted.

The rattata dodged Cyndaquil’s attack with impressive speed, and little to no effort. Cyndaquil was already a slow pokémon, but against an opponent as quick as Joey’s Rattata, Ethan was not sure if he could win.

Joey sent a glare at his companions, who were watching the battle with stupefied expressions. “Send out your pokémon already!” he barked.

The two boys produced their own pokéballs, holding and then tossing them into the air, their pokémon emerging from separate beams of light with a flourish.

“Pidgey, go!”

“Caterpie!”

“What?” Ethan asked. He straightened his back, frowning deeply. “What are you doing?”

“A three-on-three battle,” Joey told him, as if it were obvious. “The three of us versus the three of you.”

“Huh?”

“Wait,” Kris began. “Raiden and I don’t have any pokémon to battle with.”

“No pokémon for the three of you, huh?” Joey asked, smirking. “That’s too bad. And, to think you were all trainers. Guess I was wrong.”

“One-on-one,” Ethan said between gritted teeth. “I want to battle one-on-one. That’s what I thought we were doing.”

Mikey tutted, and waggled his index finger. His pidgey was gently flapping its wings beside him, a fierce look of determination in its keen eyes.  “How silly of you,” he said.

“One-on-one,” Ethan said again, his fists clenched.

“Too late,” Mikey said with a shrug. “We’ve already sent out our pokémon. I guess you have to battle us as is.”

“That’s unfair,” Kris protested.

“Tough,” Mikey said, pouting mockingly. “If you want the houndour, your boyfriend’s going to have to battle all three of us for it. It shouldn’t be too hard. He has a cyndaquil.”

Kris blushed furiously, and then scowled at her feet.

Raiden, who had remained silent thus far, scoffed, his arms crossed over his chest. He eyed Ethan, and said, “Just battle them three-on-one. They have weak pokémon. Cyndaquil is much stronger than their rattata, pidgey, and caterpie combined.”

“Weak pokémon?” Joey cried, lividly. “I’ll have you know my rattata is in the top percentage of all rattata.”

“Wow,” Raiden deadpanned. “The competition there must have been stiff.”

“Shut up!” Joey shouted. “Enough of this, Rattata use tackle!”

“Caterpie, string shot,” Don said.

“Pidgey, sand attack!” Mikey called.

The consecutive attacks barreled down on Cyndaquil from all sides. Tackled to the ground, it was sent skidding through and across the dirt. After, a thin and sticky web was layered over its back, pinning it in place. And then, finally, dirt particles as well as scattered pine leaves from the surrounding evergreen trees were swept up in the air by the flapping of Mikey’s pidgey’s wings and sent in Cyndaquil’s direction, blinding it.

Ethan took a shaky step back, feeling completely and utterly overwhelmed. He shot a nervous glance at Raiden, and then Kris before turning back toward his pokémon. 

“Smokescreen,” Raiden told him, lowly. “Use smokescreen now.”

“Smokescreen, Cyndaquil!”

A thick dark cloud of smoke steamed out from Cyndaquil’s mouth, blanketing and plunging the clearing into darkness. Ethan made sure to shield himself, but, even so, he struggled to see. Cyndaquil’s smokescreen was denser than before. Though, as much would be figured, seeing that a move would become stronger the more a pokémon used and perfected it. 

“Give me Aipom’s pokéball,” Raiden demanded.

“Right,” Ethan said, nodding.

He dug around in his pack until he found Aipom’s pokéball. And then, he stretched his hand out and over to Raiden, who plucked up the sphere immediately.

As the smoke began to clear, Raiden stepped forward, his feet firm and planted, his shoulders square as he eyed the small boys on the other side of the clearing. He held the pokéball up in his clenched fist, and then, he eyed Ethan threw his peripheral vision.

“Focus on Cyndaquil,” he said. “I’ll battle with Aipom.”

“He isn’t that strong yet,” Ethan said. “He doesn’t know that many moves.”

“A pokémon doesn’t have to be strong to win,” the other boy told him. And then, he flung Aipom’s pokéball forward.

The purple monkey pokémon emerged happily, hooting and hollering. It stood in front of Cyndaquil, who was still ensnared in Caterpie’s web, and smiled manically at the three enemy pokémon.

“I thought you didn’t have any other pokémon,” Joey pointed out.

“Sand attack, Aipom!” Raiden shouted, ignoring Joey. “Then, scratch on Pidgey!”

Aipom, though not Raiden’s pokémon, followed the boy’s orders almost immediately. It was naughty in nature, but it was also persistent and determined. The confidence it felt from Raiden’s orders must have been enough for it to move forward, fluidly, without resistance or hesitation.

Equally, Ethan was taken back, and alarmed to hear such passion in Raiden’s voice. Kris seemed to be thinking the same thing, for she was watching the hired hand with widened eyes, in a way she had never seen him before.

Aipom kicked up debris and sent it flying into the eyes of Rattata and Caterpie. Pidgey’s keen eye ability, however, prevented such from happening. But, it appeared Raiden had anticipated this, and, before long, Aipom was scratching the flying-type pokémon in a feverish frenzy.

As Rattata and Caterpie worked to regain their sight, Cyndaquil took the opportunity to break free from its cage of sticky string.

“Peck, Pidgey!” Mikey shouted. “Peck!”

Raiden was stepping away from the battling pokémon, his facial expression shrouded under his straw sedge hat. “Aipom,” he said, quickly, calling the pokémon to attention. “This way.”

Aipom appeared unsure of what Raiden meant, but scurried over to the boy anyway, forcing Pidgey to follow, as it was desperate to land a hit. Mikey took a hesitant step forward as his pokémon moved further away from him. All the while, Cyndaquil was back on its feet, ready for its next command. It gazed back at Ethan, as if wondering what he would tell it to do next.

“Tac―!”

“Tackle on Caterpie, Ethan,” Raiden called, interjecting. “Take out the weaker one.”

As Ethan made the next call, for Cyndaquil to tackle Caterpie while it was still recovering from the sand attack, Raiden had dragged the battle between Aipom and Pidgey closer to the trees. Similarly, Mikey was also stepping closer, trying to get his flying-type to land a hit.

“Peck! Peck it, Pidgey! Peck!” he screamed.

As Pidgey flew in close for its attack, Raiden had Aipom launch itself into the trees. On the other side of the field, Cyndaquil had managed to knock out Caterpie, leaving just Rattata.

Don returned his pokémon miserably at about the same time Mikey sent his pidgey after Aipom, who was readily anticipating an attack. As the flying-type swooped in, Raiden had Ethan’s aipom jump out of the way, only to leap up and onto Pidgey’s back.

“Get off of my pidgey!” Mikey screeched.

Only, it did not seem to matter, as Pidgey could not hold the weight of Aipom, forcing it to come crashing to the ground, head-first.

“Tackle!” Joey shouted.

While Ethan was focusing on Raiden and Aipom, he forgot to watch out for Cyndaquil, who was sent flying backwards with the quickness and sheerness of Rattata’s attack.

“Cyndaquil, are you all right?” he asked.

Cyndaquil struggled to its feet, but nodded. Not too soon, as Joey called for his pokémon to use quick attack, sending the fire-type to the dirt. It tried to rise, but Ethan could see its legs were shaking; it wasn’t going to last any longer.

“Oh no…”

“Again!” Joey screamed. “Quick attack, again!”

As Rattata scurried in for a final blow, the sound of cheerful laughter filled the air, and suddenly, Aipom was standing in its path, receiving the quick attack full force.

Joey’s mouth gaped just then, and he searched for Mikey and Pidgey, only to discover the former was cradling the fainted pokémon in his arms gently, whispering something undiscernible to it.

“Astonish,” Raiden commanded. And, with that, Aipom, who was back on its feet, opened its mouth open and released a terrifying, and completely startling sound directly at Rattata.

“Woah,” Ethan gasped.

Joey’s rattata was knocked on its back in terror, the small rodent pokémon flinching fearfully.

“Scratch!” Raiden shouted, his hand slicing through the air to signal the finishing hit.

Aipom danced over to Rattata, its hand drawn back. Then, it swiped the normal-type in the face, knocking it out, and concluding the battle.

There was silence that hung in the air for a short while afterward. Ethan and Kris both had looks of pleasant surprise on their faces.

“We win,” Raiden said, plainly. He aimed his soul-seeping gaze at the three small boys, almost causing them to flinch themselves. “We’ll be taking our houndour back now.”

“No!” Joey shouted, defiantly. He stamped his foot on the ground and glared angrily at Raiden. “No, you cheated. That battle was unfair!”

“Unfair?” Kris asked, incredulous. “That’s really rich, especially consid―”

“Kris,” Raiden said, calm yet sternly, cutting her off. He kept his expression neutral as he appraised the boy with the so-called ‘top percentage rattata.’ “You’re right,” he deadpanned. “The battle _was_ unfair. But, I remedied that. Three against one was hardly a fair battle.”

“You cheated,” Mikey said, pointing at Raiden. “You and your Aipom cheated, cheater!”

Raiden did not appear amused, despite the idiocy of the whining boys. “You ganged up on a poor, defenseless pokémon.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Mikey whined. “You’re a cheater!”

“Just give us the houndour back.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Yeah,” Ethan chimed in. “Why not? We beat you.”

“Tough,” Mikey said, sticking out his tongue.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Kris shouted. She stormed over to Mikey, gripping his shirt and yanking him into the air with unforeseeable strength. “Give me my fucking houndour, or so help me, I will fucking strangle you, you little shit.”

Mikey was dangling off of the ground helplessly, his hands clasped around Kris’s clenched fist as he struggled in her grasp. He yelped in pain as her fingernails began to dig into his skin.

“Let him go,” Don said.

Kris dropped Mikey without preamble, and piled her wrath on the young boy with the bug-catching net. As she took a step toward him, Don scrambled behind Joey, hoping the braggart boy would protect him.

“Enough of this, Gyarados,” Raiden said, addressing Kris. He was over by the tree that held Sundance with Ethan, his knife gripped between his fingers. “Just get over here and catch your pokémon.”

* * *

 

Ethan, Kris, and Raiden reached Violet mere hours later, the sun still shining in the sky, bringing a strange brightness to the somber-looking city-state.

The entirety of Violet seemed to only have one color-scheme: dark, grey, and purple. It was an old city-state, and it was evident in the way the structures that rose up from the ground looked. With old, weathered wood and sunken in rooftops, some of the houses did not look too promising either. But, there were some that appeared to be in good condition. Those were the ones with the pretty, purple-tiled roofs, and crisp-looking paint.

There was only one street that the market ran on. It was a wide street, but it made Ethan unsure about whether the three of them would be able to purchase the supplies they needed to restock up on.

“What’s with all of the bellsprout stuff?” Kris asked aloud as she stared indiscreetly at nearly everyone and everything she passed.

Ethan wondered the same thing. The city-state was somber, yes, but it was also decorated with bellsprout, or at least their vines and leaves. There were also many effigies of the grass-type watching them from the balconies of the surrounding houses, the soulless stare the plant pokémon making Ethan feel uncomfortable and a bit creeped out. To add to the strangeness of it all, there were numerous portraits of bellsprout all over the place, pinned up to the walls, hanging in front of windows or doors.

“I don’t know,” he said, his eyes trailing a group of children as they ran off with seven or eight bellsprout.

“Violet is known for its Sprout Tower,” Raiden told them. “But, why everyone here appears to have a bellsprout is beyond me.”

“It’s weird,” Ethan admitted.

“I agree.”

“We’ll buy our supplies now,” Raiden said. “Then, we’ll head over to the airship dock.” He pointed his finger westward, and asked, “Do you see it?”

Ethan nodded.

“Good,” the other boy said. “Let’s get to it.”

Raiden headed off into the direction of the fruit vendor’s stand, probably to buy more apples. Ethan noticed the hired hand had an affinity for the red-skinned fruit above all else. It was a strange obsession, but he figure everyone had some sort of kink like that.

He found himself drifting off in the same direction, leaving Kris and Sundance to their own devices as they stalked over to the stall that sold pokéballs.

“I never got the chance to thank you,” he said as he came to a stop beside the older boy. “So, thank you.”

Raiden kept his steely gaze on the mountain of fruit before him, his fingers working quickly as he overturned and assessed each apple for imperfections. “It’s no problem,” he said, flatly. “But, next time, don’t go running off. That was probably the most idiotic thing either of you have done so far.”

Ethan reached out and plucked up an apple, turning it over in his hand, not quite sure what he was looking for. “You’re really good,” he began. “At battling.”

“It’s not particularly hard,” he said, unamused. “You just have to practice.”

“Did you learn all of that from Elm, too?”

“What do you mean?”

“Battling strategies,” Ethan clarified, rolling the apple in his palm. “You moved Aipom to higher ground so it could gain an advantage over Pidgey. Then, you used its own strength and power against it.” When Raiden did not respond right away, he continued, “You said something about a pokémon not having to be strong to win. Did you mean it just needed to be clever, or…?”

“Clever, not really,” he said. “More like creative. And, even then, that’s all up to the trainer. Those boys had weak pokémon but they were painfully uncreative. That’s why I knew they would lose.”

“I’m not really creative,” Ethan admitted. “Did you think I was going to lose?”

“No,” the older boy said. “I was going to help you as soon as I realized they were going to pull some malarkey like that. And, you are inexperienced. Creativity in battling comes with practice, like I said before. I only assumed because those boys were young that they wouldn’t know much about battling save for the basic rules and regulations. There’s a pokémon trainer academy here in Violet. My guess was that they had just gotten out of class and decided to try their luck out in the forest.”

“Wow,” Ethan said. “That’s awfully perceptive.”

Raiden shrugged, and then held up five fingers to the vendor, indicating he would be taking five apples. He then shelled over a few pokédollars.

“You just have to know what to look for,” the other boy said. “Then, it’s common knowledge.”

_But, it’s not,_ Ethan thought.

The common knowledge Raiden seemed to possess was something Ethan had never once thought to have an inkling about. It was a bit stereotypical, actually, assuming that because a trainer was young, they would stick to the ‘uncreative’ rules of battling. But, then again, Ethan wasn’t really young, but he was new to pokémon training, and he would have never thought to move the battlefield to a place where his pokémon would feel most comfortable. That was something experience and hours of watching battles gave a person.

Ethan took a step back and stared at Raiden for a long while. _Really_ stared at him. The hired hand was wiser beyond his years, he knew, but he had not realized he was so completely knowledgeable about nearly everything.

The sedge hat he wore was tilted a bit upwards, revealing more of the young man’s face. His forehead was sticky with a bit of sweat, russet colored hair clinging to the skin there, most likely from being trapped under a hat in the unbearable summer heat.

Raiden rotated his head slowly as he became aware of Ethan’s long and rather unnatural stare, his face pulled into his usual scowl, and he opened his mouth to say something, but not before Kris jumped up from behind, her hands clamping down on the older boy’s shoulders as she beamed.

“Look,” she exclaimed. “Look what I bought.”

She held out a necklace for all to see, a proud look on her face.

Ethan reached forward and took it out of her hands, running his thumb against the pendant. It was a leaf stone, dull brown with a rich green center. The texture was glossy, as if a polish was applied over it, and the thread that held it was a black, thin tweed string.

“A leaf stone,” Ethan asked, handing it back to Kris. “Why did you buy this?”

“It’s pretty,” she said, sticking out her tongue. “Not like you would know.”

“I know plenty about pretty things,” he said. “And, that necklace is not one of them. You don’t even have a grass-type pokémon to evolve with that leaf stone.”

“I don’t need one,” she said. “I didn’t buy it to evolve a pokémon anyway.”

“Why did you buy it then?”

“For the Sprout Festival!” she said, spreading her arms out. “Apparently, everyone’s super crazy about bellsprout here, but this week in particular is the Sprout Festival. Which means all things bellsprout all the time. They’re selling leaf stones for when a trainer’s bellsprout evolves into a weepinbell, and they then want to evolve it into a victreebel.”

“How fortunate of us,” Raiden said, flatly.

Ethan laughed, and said, “That’s actually pretty cool.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Kris said, dismissively. She waved her hand, and then held up her necklace for Raiden to get a better look. “The point is I got this. This woman sold it to me. She was super nice, and even lowered the price. How much are leaf stones normally? Two thousand one hundred pokédollars? Well, I got it for only one thousand.”

Raiden held the pendant in his hand, eyeing it carefully, and then he met Kris’s gaze. “I told Ethan that running off was the most idiotic thing either of you have done so far,” he began with a emotionless expression. “But, this tops the cake. This leaf stone is completely fake. It’s a rock painted to look like a leaf stone. And, you paid one thousand pokédollars for it.”

“What?” Kris cried, snatching the necklace back. She rubbed the pendant a bit, and, sure enough, some of the paint faded away. “Oh, fuck me.”

Ethan snickered, and patted Kris reassuringly on the back. “We aren’t going to be doing any of that, Kris. Children are present,” he said, jokingly. “I doubt they’d want to see that.”

Raiden, surprisingly, cracked a smile, and the expression was the most strange and foreign of things. Even still, as Kris pouted and bemoaned, Ethan found himself laughing harder just because he managed to get the other boy to smile.

“I want my money back!” Kris yelled, garnering attention from all around the market 

Placing an arm around her, Ethan guided her away, despite her protests, Raiden falling into step on the other side of him. Similarly, Sundance was trailing happily and attentively from behind.

“Serves you right for buying something so atrocious,” Ethan told her. “But, calm down. We’ve got an airship to catch. Can’t have you complaining all the way to Azalea.”

“I most definitely will,” she said, hitting him lightly for him to let go of her.

“Did you get a pokéball for Sundance?” Ethan asked, remembering. “They might not like for a pokémon to remain out in the open on an airship.”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, reaching around for her satchel. She threw the stone necklace inside, and fished around for the pokéball she had purchased. Pulling it out, she said, “Here it is. I was just excited about the necklace, so I stored it away for later.”

The trio came to a stop, and Kris clenched the pokéball in her fist. “I just throw it at Sundance, yeah?” 

Ethan nodded, and said, “He should go right in.”

“Okay." 

She lobbed the pokéball at Sundance’s head, unceremoniously, only to have a sphere of protective light appear around the houndour’s body, deflecting the capsule, and sending it back into her hands.

“What the fuck?” she asked before trying again.

Her second time yielded the same result, and Kris threw her hands up in annoyance. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Why can’t I catch it?”

“I don’t know,” Ethan said.

He was as confused as she was. The pokéball should have worked by now, so what was the problem?

“Oh,” Raiden said, uncharacteristically.

“Oh,” Kris repeated. “What do you mean ‘ _oh’_?”

“Sundance was never released from its pokéball, so, technically, it still belongs to another trainer. And―”

“You can’t catch another trainer’s pokémon,” Ethan finished. “Dang, I must’ve forgotten about that.”

“Well, fuck me,” Kris bemoaned. “Again.”

“Relax,” Ethan said. “He won’t run away from you or anything.”

“Yeah, that makes everything so much better.”

Sundance peered up at Kris just then, its eyes large and round, seemingly pleading for her to accept it. It brought a smile to Ethan’s face, and he reached down and rubbed the canine pokémon’s fur.

Kris rolled her eyes, and folded her arms across her chest.

“We should get over to the dock,” Raiden said. “Let’s not lose any more time.”

The three youths, along with their houndour, hurried along through the cobblestoned streets to the airship dock in the western portion of the city-state. When they arrived, they were pleasantly met with a horde of airships, one of which was set to sail for Azalea soon.

They rushed up to the booth, Ethan the one to ask for three tickets to Azalea.

The man inside smiled, and fetched the tickets for them. “It’s going to be ten thousand pokédollars. Each.”

Ethan almost felt his eyeballs pop out of his head. “Woah,” he said. “Each?”

The man, still smiling, nodded. “So, thirty thousand for all three of you.”

“Holy miltank.”

“Why does it cost so much?” Kris demanded. “We’re just going over to Azalea.”

“Well,” the man began. “The cost is not particularly high. It’s the lowest it’s been in a while, actually.”

“Tauros-shit,” Kris said.

“Kris,” Ethan said, shooting her a look.

“How much do you think a ticket should be worth, girl?” the man asked, tilting his head with a smile.

“A thousand,” she said. “Each.”

“I wish I could be imaginative as you,” the man said, laughing. “But, I’m terribly sorry. I can’t sell you a ticket for one thousand pokédollars.”

“Five thousand then,” she said.

“Kris,” Ethan warned.

“Do you have five thousand pokédollars?” the man asked.

“I do.”

“Well then, you only need five thousand more,” the man said, beaming. “Until then, the only way to Azalea would be on foot. Have a nice day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As always, thanks for reading. Have a wonderful day/afternoon/night.


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